Claws & Chaos
by Heathen92
Summary: Xander and Faith meet again on the East Coast. Xander goes through a few... changes. Crossover Werewolf: the Apocalypse.
1. Something furry this way comes

Title: Claws and Chaos  
  
Author: Heathen92  
  
Disclaimer: BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon. And I'm not him. Something really driven home when Joss broken into my house at night, woke me up and said: "Hi, I'm Joss Whedon; creator of Buffy.... And you're not." That really sucked.  
  
Rating: PG-13, for Faith's mouth.  
  
[A/N: I'd like to think that Xander would have bit of a more extreme reaction to Anya's death than: "That's my girl."]  
  
As Faith walked home from her patrolling she thought of Xander Harris. No one had seen him for five years now. Not since He left Cleveland, not five days after the showdown in the hellmouth.  
  
Some of the other Slayers thought he'd gotten tired of the war when Anya died. A few, well Kennedy and Rona, thought he lost his nerve. The original Scoobies didn't really put forth any theories beyond: "He's really gone." Faith wasn't really surprised he left. She'd seen that he would leave when he lost his eye.  
  
She'd seen it in his eye. He wasn't burnt out. He sure as hell hadn't chicken shitted. What she saw was wander lust. And hey, that's five-by-five with her. She'd caught a bit of that herself afterwards. Robin had taught her that this world did have good men.   
  
Then he left.  
  
Had a life in California. His own friends and a job as principal at a new school. She just didn't want to get in the middle of something like that yet.  
  
She went on her own little vacation then. She'd told B she needed a few days. B told her to keep an eye, didn't say for who. Days became weeks. Weeks became months. She came back and they were starting to get worried sick about her as well as Xander. Angel's law firm sent over a letter a few days before hand. They had handled Anya's will, and apparently it left Xander with close to one hundred thousand dollars. Where ever he was he was taken care of.   
  
Eventually she went off on her own. Found her way to New Jersey.  
  
She'd almost done a spit-take when she saw him in that bar two weeks ago. Apparently he had been busy these last few years. He had a few new scars, as well as guns in his coat. Acting like a big tough vampire hunter. Two nights ago she'd found out he was for real when she saw him dust three of them. The guns wouldn't kill them, but it's hard to walk around, much less fight when your knees have been shot off. Mostly she was just shocked he could shoot so well with only one eye.  
  
She was only a few blocks from home when she heard the sounds of fighting. It sounded like several things fighting just one. She knew she needed to check it out.  
  
She rounded the corner carefully and took a peek. Those several things fighting turned out to be Vampires. Eight of them, and from the ashes strewn on the alley floor, there had been more. That... thing they were fighting was a little more exotic.  
  
The first thing that came to her mind when she saw was Oz. But while Oz put on weight whenever he changed he also seemed to shrink. This thing was huge. It hunched down to get at it's attackers and still came to seven feet. If straightened it would probably stand nine-feet tall. It must weigh five hundred pounds, every ounce was toned muscle like steel. Massive paws ending in long sharp talons. It was covered in silver-grey fur. And it had a wolf's head that was easily twice as large as Faith's own.  
  
Two more vampires became ash while she took this in. It was killing vamps now, but afterward it might get hungry. There was no way Faith could let that happen.  
  
The wolf-thing grabbed a vampire with each of his arms in a paw and brought it's head forward, jaws wide. It literally snapped his head off. It coughed up ash, in what would be humorous if not for the death it dealt. Faith jumped an easy six feet in the air to kick it in the head. The wolf-thing staggered back a few steps and the vampires looked confused as to why a Slayer would help them out. She back-flipped over it's arm as it clawed at her. An unlucky vamp caught the blow meant for her and turned to dust.   
  
She landed on her feet and jumped again as soon as he landed. Only this time it reached out and caught her. Its paw was easily the size of Faith's sternum. It's index and middle finger's came to rest on either side of her neck with the other fingers wrapping around her abs. IT snarled and brought her close to it's face.  
  
It paused for a moment and it sniffed her. "Rrrrr?" It seemed at a loss as for what to do with her.   
  
A bold vamp jumps on it's massive shoulders and bit down. It roared in more Rage than pain. Yes, capital "R." it half-tossed half-dropped Faith and turned to deal with the vamps. By the time she recovered it was finished.  
  
She sat up as the creature seemed to look sniff and mill about the alley. It looked like it was calming down. And without it trying to kill everything in sight, she can see a few details she missed.  
  
Like the fact that it's missing it's left eye. 


	2. Xander's Introduction

Title: Claws and Chaos  
  
Author: Heathen92  
  
Disclaimer: BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon. And I'm not him. Something really driven home when Joss broken into my house at night, woke me up and said: "Hi, I'm Joss Whedon; creator of Buffy.... And you're not." That really sucked.  
  
Rating: PG-13, for Faith's mouth.  
  
She could see a few details she had missed… Like it's missing left eye…  
  
[Fifteen days earlier.]  
  
Tamara DuBois clutched a dossier to her chest and walked down the hallway to Mr. Culliford's office. It was her job to find potential fighters for him, (and for some reason she had been told to stay in good shape herself) and she was well rewarded. The work was honest enough, but Culliford weirded her out a little. For instance, his office seemed very wholesome, but somehow… weird. She was very articulate and that was still the only word she could find.   
  
She shivered slightly without realizing it as she stepped into his office. "Mr. Culliford? I've found another one."  
  
The man in the office was slightly balding with graying red hair and a full beard. He wore a three piece suit that made it difficult to tell his build. "Good. Good, let's see what you have for me." He broke into an easy grin. "This is… This is an incredible find!" he exclaimed obviously overjoyed.   
  
"Your welcome, sir." She turned to leave  
  
"Oh Tamara."  
  
Damn she thought. "What is it sir?" she said.  
  
"I'd like you to approach him. It will give you valuable growth experience. Make the standard offer."  
  
"Oh. OK sir." Tamara sighed inwardly. She didn't know whether to feel jealous of or feel pity for Alexander Harris.  
  
+ + + +  
  
The gang-banger fell to the alleyway floor after the butt of a hand gun was brutally smashed across his face.  
  
He couldn't have been any younger than seventeen. Yet he whimpered like an infant on the ground. This amused his attacker to no end. "Now. As I was saying. Are you two part the gang busting up that bar on West and 23rd? Don't make me get rough." The attacker himself looked to be in his mid-thirties, but he was actually in his late twenties. He was dressed in mostly muted colors and had longish black hair hanging loose. His muscles were toned and compact. Favoring speed and percision rather than brute strength. His good eye was brown.  
  
"I-I don't know nothing about that."  
  
"Wrong answer." He turned and shot the gang banger's friend several times with a small nine millimeter pistol. Then he drew a ridiculously large handgun out and shot him in the heart.  
  
The vampire turned quickly to ash. "The next ones for you."  
  
"How did…?" The Gangbanger/Vampire was cut off by numerous nine millimeter bullets.  
  
"Nevermind that. Answer the question."  
  
"Yeah that was us. You're gonna die anyway. There's twenty more of us."  
  
"Actually more like nine. And guess what? You're the last." Xander Harris pulled the trigger on the large handgun. His faced crinkled in disgust as the vamp turned to dust. From the smell, the vamp had wet himself.  
  
+ + + +  
  
The following night found Xander in the bar on West and 23rd talking to Willy the Snitch. Willy might cater to scum, but then he turned around and gave information to people like Xander. Besides he was a Sunnydale survivor. "So Xand, howzit coming on those guys? You find out where they are?"  
  
Xander took a seat on the barstool by the register "Don't worry about it. They won't be bothering anyone ever again."  
  
"Holy crap! There were like eight of those guys!"  
  
"Eleven." Xander corrected.  
  
"You going to be sticking around town long? 'Cause I got someone you might want to meet."  
  
"No thanks. I'm heading out in a few days. After a few drinks of course."  
  
"On the house."  
  
If there was a gene for becoming a drunk, Xander discovered after his first year on his own, he didn't have it. This didn't necessarily mean he couldn't become an alcoholic, but those were two different things. For one thing, Xander definitely wasn't a drunk, but he was skipping happily down the road to alcoholism. Tonight, the liquor was free. And Xander fully intended to make Willy regret his decision.  
  
He started with a bottle of whiskey. Then a second bottle. All of a sudden the she-demon in the corner was beginning to look increasingly more a attractive. A third bottle. Xander had drawn up a (to him) cunning plan. He would only drink a little more, then smuggle out a number of bottles in his pants. Or may be he would just go hit on that dark haired girl… over near Willy… staring at him… "Faith?" he slurred and stumbled over.  
  
"Hiii." In his inebriated state Xander saw fit to stretch the syllable paper thin.   
  
Faith looked him up and down with a worried and disappointed expression. She didn't know what she expected after all these years, but this definitely wasn't it. She just hoped he wasn't a victim of the famous Harris family curse. "Where ya been Harris?"  
  
"All over the place!" he exclaimed as he began his fourth bottle.  
  
"You're drunk, Xan-man."  
  
"Yep, want some? It's on Willy." He set down his whiskey, it had emptied very fast. He grabbed another bottle. Faith snatched it away from him.  
  
"I think you might have had enough."  
  
"Nah." He grabbed another bottle and brought it to his lips before she could get it.  
  
"Willy here tells me you took care of some vamps."  
  
"Ahhh, they weren't nothing." he finished his bottle, again with blinding speed. He started his sixth.   
  
"Xan, I really think you've had enough. Come on."  
  
Xander looked up from his booze. "No."  
  
He never even saw Faith's fist as she hit him. "Sorry, Xan." She slung him over her shoulder and carried him out of the bar.  
  
+ + + +   
  
Xander realized he wasn't in his hotel room. Had he gotten drunk last night? Yes. He looked around at his surroundings. An apartment. Willy's? No, he'd never been to Willy's apartment but he had a pretty good idea it wouldn't look like this. It was neat or ordered per se. But not something he would associate with the host of a demon bar. He took a better look at his surroundings.  
  
Most of the furniture around him was cheap, but still tasteful. Like someone who didn't care about appearances so much what was underneath. Or just function over form. There was a half eaten bagel on the coffee table, a crumpled outfit in the corner that looked like something a secretary would wear. Work clothes. Oh crap.  
  
Xander racked his brain trying to figure out if he had slept with anyone. He was bare-chested. Looking under his blanket revealed pants, so he probably hadn't done anything. Further examination underneath confirmed he had had nothing like that last night. And based on the sun outside whoever lived here had probably gone to work. He figured he could probably be safe here for a little while and that he could sleep in for the first time in months. If not years.  
  
He was wrong. Two hours later Faith woke up and padded into her kitchen. Xander apparently didn't keep track of days anymore. Today was Sunday and few office workers had work. She sat across from him with a bowl of cheerios and waited for him to wake up. Eventually her curiosity got the better of her. She set down her cereal and lifted his blanket.  
  
Well, now the story Willy told her made a little more sense. From the way he was knocking them back last night she hadn't believed it. He didn't have a pack or anything, but there was no beer belly either. His arms were more defined and lean. Now him taking on vamps made sense. Well, that and the guns.   
  
She waited a little longer before getting up to do something else. When she did Xander's eye peeked open. He quietly got up and began to put on his boots and shirt. She came back as he was putting on his coat. "Uhh… hi."  
  
"Your running away again. Does that seem like a good idea to you Xand?"  
  
"Running, yeah. It's this away thing I'm having a problem with. You all would probably like to think I couldn't pull my weight and assume I left the fight. I just found another front." As he spoke it was clear that all traces of the goofy Xander had gone in the past few years. He strapped his guns onto his back where the coat would conceal them.  
  
"Cut that crap out! No thought you were useless! If you've got your own issues, that's fine, but don't try and pin this on us." Without a single word. Xander turned and left.  
  
+ + + +   
  
[Twelve days before Wolf-Alley]  
  
Knocking at his hotel room door woke Xander early that morning. He opened his door to find an attractive woman in a secretary's outfit. She had lush black, beautiful green eyes, and creamy skin. But the days when Xander could be so easily affected were long gone.  
  
"Mr. Harris?"  
  
"That's right."  
  
"I here to offer you a job with us at Pentex, Xander… Do you mind if I call you Xander?" Xander mentally quirked his eyebrows at this. If someone knew to call him by that name they sure as hell weren't offering him an office job.  
  
"Call me Alex."   
  
"Ok, Alex. From your reputation I'd wager you're thinking we want you to be some corporate assassin. That's not exactly true."  
  
"That a fact?"  
  
"That's a fact. We want the same things you do."  
  
"And what exactly do I want?"  
  
"To kill them all."  
  
"What's your name?" He was a little surprised when she said that. And a little impressed.  
  
"Tamara DuBois."  
  
"Well, Tamara. Why should I join with you guys? I hunt alone." He settled onto the over stuffed couch.  
  
"Because we will pay you. You'll be supplied with anything you need."  
  
"I get by."  
  
"And we can also anonymously defer payments. To say… Faith Gainsborough or Dawn Sum-" She didn't get to finish as Xander shot up, grabbed her roughly by the side of the neck and shoved her out of the apartment.  
  
Later, when she got back to the office, her boss assured her that "this sort of thing" happened a lot during recruitment. He was confident they would hear from him again. She had left a little incentive.  
  
+ + + +   
  
Xander returned to his hotel room mere minutes before night fall. He wasn't stupid: He couldn't afford to fight vamps at night like he had done earlier in the week. Xander was smarter and more cunning than most vamps, but sooner or later A vampire's speed or strength would win out. So he only occasionally fought at night, preferring instead to hound them and siege their nests during the day. Sometimes he suspected that Slayers hunted at night because the watcher's coincil wanted the slayers to die. Made sense. New Slayers are more malleable. He found himself wondering if Giles' new Watchers had changed that…  
  
At any rate, he'd been in town for nearly a week and now it was time to get out of dodge before someone else figured out where he was sleeping at night.   
  
"Huh. Dubois left her purse." he thought. Then he saw that it wasn't a purse. He'd been around enough women that he could tell the difference between a bag used as a purse and one that was just going to be used once.   
  
Opening the bag he saw Cash. Not "cash" but "Cash." When it gets into… at least digits it gets a capital "C." Atop the cash was a business card: "Tamara Dubois, Recruiter, Pentex Corporation" and a number.   
  
Xander had proven on a number of occasions that he was a man of strength and character. But, this… This wasn't money. This was a motive with a universal adapter on it. And he wasn't made out of stone.  
  
He dialed the number on the card. "Hello, Ms. Dubois? When can I start?"  
  
[A/N: Just a *little* more set up before we get to the furry goodness… if a werewolf more dangerous than Oz can be called that.] 


	3. Bar room battle

Title: Claws and Chaos  
  
Author: Heathen92  
  
Disclaimer: BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon. And I'm not him. Something really driven home when Joss broken into my house at night, woke me up and said: "Hi, I'm Joss Whedon; creator of Buffy.... And you're not." That really sucked.  
  
Rating: PG-13, for Faith's mouth  
  
[A/N: Sorry for the lack of update. I hit the proverbial brick wall. More soon.]  
  
To the untrained eye, Xander was holding his own with the Suit he'd been sat with to negotiate a contract. "Mr. Culliford" I.e.: a slightly more experienced Suit. And as much as Xander hated to admit it, he was in over his head.  
  
"We can also supply you with an apartment as part of your…" Culliford began.  
  
"No." the younger man stated flatly.  
  
"No?"  
  
"No." Xander had decided he didn't want these people beating down his door. 'As if I could stop them'  
  
"How, then, do you propose we give you assignments?"  
  
"I'll pick them up here. Same with my checks. At my convenience."  
  
The suit nodded. "And the same with weapons I suppose?"  
  
"I'll handle those." And there was no way he was going to lead them to his suppliers.  
  
"Well then, we'll have a contract prepared for you at the front desk in thirty minutes." With that The Suit stood and stuck out his hand. After a moment Xander stood and grasped his hand, before turning and leaving the office.  
  
+ + + +   
  
"I'm surprised you did that well."  
  
"Why?" Xander's only real comfort in there had been that he hadn't been completely swindled. Now his… What? recruiter was talking about how well he'd done. Interesting.  
  
"Most people eat out of my hand with what I'm offering."  
  
'Then this guy only deals with the very spoiled or the very desperate. I'm not spoiled so that means desperate, and which also means he knows something I don't.'  
  
+ + + +   
  
One week and two days time found Alexander Harris, Former Scooby and current Hunter in his own right, setting happily about his work. He had good reason to be happy. He was happy in the fashion of a blood hound following a scent. Content as a horse at a dead run. He was happy because he was doing what he did best.  
  
He certainly wasn't behind a desk.   
  
For his seventh job from Pentex he'd been asked to go to an exclusive club that catered to rather upscale undead clientele. Those young masters with the wealth to get in and not so old that they would bother. Which also meant that Xander was going in to slay tomorrows big threats today, while they were still somewhat weak.  
  
Years ago he would have gone into this excited. Fortunately it wasn't years ago, it was 2008. Today Xander knew that excitement made men jumpy, apprehensive, short-sighted, but worst of all stupid. And stupid was something he could not afford.  
  
He had staked out the place the night before, and had already ruled out trying to get in posing as a vampire. That idea was just stupid. He'd briefly, very briefly, considered going in as a drink. The vampires insisted on only light clothing with no jackets or coat for their meals. Paranoia amongst vamps meant no place to stash guns. So the choice was narrowed down to imitating a guard. The place was dark so he'd have nothing to fear when it came to being spotted once he was in. At the entrance were never less than two armed bouncers who would undoubtedly no he wasn't one of theirs.   
  
The many years on the road had hardened Xander's heart to such matters. He approached the door nonchalantly not stopping until challenged by the two guards. Faster than they could react he'd drawn two long knives from his belt, opening the throat of the far and thrusting his other blade past the eye and into the brain case. Two quick (but cautious) trips to the dumpster and he was in.  
  
Once he did get in the plan became much simpler. Thirty minutes of playing the part of a guard allowed him to size up most of the patrons. In all he counted about twenty drinks, seven masters and only four guards. He figured the guards would cause him more trouble than the vamps. They were new. Stronger than minions already without the experience of an old one. They were cocky and headstrong.   
  
And why shouldn't they be? Their masters had most likely already hammered the concept of Minion and Master into their skulls. That Masters were innately stronger, faster, smarter than all the rest.   
  
And that was exactly how Xander would win this battle.   
  
When ready he ambled over to the bar and came up behind one of the vamps. He drew and fired his large caliber in to the thing heart at point blank. The bartender's eyes bugged out of their sockets, but he was well trained. Just as the hunter had hoped. "Hey!" he bellowed "He dressed like a guard! He-" Before he finished Xander drew his other, smaller, caliber and shot him in forehead. Without hesitation the shooter called out "He gettin' away!"  
  
It was all in all an imperfect imitation at best. Xander hadn't even tried to match his voice, instead mimicking his tone, pitch, and urgency.   
  
It seemed to do the trick as one of the guards turned and shot one of the guards who really was heading for the door. Then all hell broke loose. Xander had managed two more vamps before he tried to blend in with the refreshments, taking off his coat as he went to blend all the better.  
  
Xander had been dead-on in his assessment of the vamps abilities, on this night as many before it. Of the remaining four, two attacked the guards (the hunter silently thanked the bartender for this), the other two chickened and headed for the door.   
  
One guard found Xander, and took a step toward him. "You are in so far over you head you don't even…" Not wanting to attract too much attention, Xander went to work with knives instead of blades. Not subtle enough it seems, and one of the master's looked up from an unfortunate guards neck and hissed at him. 'oh shit' Xander had time to think as he frantically tried to reload.   
  
Two clips clattered to the floor. The vampire cast his meal aside.  
  
One clip was pressed home. The lead vamp smacked the other feeding vamps arm and pointed at Xander.  
  
The second clip was inserted. They both advanced on him.  
  
The slides were cocked. Xander blasted out the lead vamps knee-caps bringing him down. The second launched himself at the young shooter trying to get their before being disabled. Actually a smart move if you knew guns could only slow you down. Xander took aim with his right. This gun always killed them. He waited a moment until the vamps pounce brought him into the guns extremely short range and fired.  
  
And missed.  
  
+ + + +   
  
Faith had similar plans for this evening. Only being a Slayer her plan was much simpler.  
  
Bust in the front. Kick ass. Take names.  
  
Being a Slayer also meant this was a feasible plan.  
  
Walking briskly in some odd half-breed of strut and saunter she moved to kick in the door, Only to have it burst open for her. Two terrified vamps burst out running as if the Devil himself were behind him. She dusted the first before they even knew she was there. The stupid thing pretty much impaled it self. The other only put up a weak fight. The combination of a Xander's shooting spree and smelling a Slayer insured that.   
  
'That was weird…' Faith thought as she entered the club regardless.  
  
The sight that greeted her on entering sent a chill up her spine. Xander was going to die. One of the remaining vampires was on the ground helpless. All the flesh and muscle surrounding it's knees gone. The other was in the air. From the looks of the club Xander had himself quite the party. Three dust piles, a stain of blood and gray matter splattered on the wall where the bartender should be, and four dead guards. Two of which seemed to have been killed by the vamps.   
  
Faith saw all this, experienced all this, but not consciously. Later she would acknowledge all this and question. Even later she would ruminate on what this meant.   
  
Now, however, none of this mattered in the least. She believed that Xander would die. She also believed there was nothing she could do about it. But Faith was a Defender at heart.  
  
Outwardly, there had never been much between Faith and Xander. But he still meant something to her. He'd never be a real love interest to her, but still… When she tried to kill him he accepted her back the next day without a word. When she got out of prison he had never asked for an apology and never once shied from her even a little. And now here he was, about to die fighting the good fight, without back-up or support… Just like her. Something? He meant a lot to her just on principle.   
  
In the fraction of a second it took Faith to see Xander's plight, her course was set. Chance or no chance.  
  
+ + + +   
  
Several times in the last five years Xander had won battles fighting as the honorific champion. His humor and wit used properly could rouse those he defended to action. He stood at the fore, a stout sword in his right and an accurate pistol in his left. (Xander had cultivated ambidexterity insofar as using weapons, but the left was weaker than the right)   
  
More often, however, he was alone. He fought dirty and won by honor less guile. Such as the hiding of bodies and picking foes off one by one. As well as his bit of deception with the bartender. Two pistols for the actual fighting and to long, thin (but surprisingly strong) knives ideal for back stabbing.  
  
But always he fought smart. He had overcome the foes of this night because of the mistakes they made more so than his own skill. Convinced of their own superiority, they never even thought of any possible outcome besides victory. In another time and place it would have been amusing to think that these dead things didn't think about death. After the first of them fell the other's made one mistake after another.  
  
The best trap's take the target's pride into account. The more prideful you were the farther you fell and reacted instead of acting.   
  
And now, it seemed Xander had fallen for his own trap. One he'd set many times before.  
  
+ + + +  
  
Faith moved as fast as her lean legs could send her. The cripple flung his arms out and tripped her. She was momentarily distracted. She had to stake the cripple before she could get up. In the time it took her to rise the vamp landed on Xander.  
  
+ + + +   
  
Inevitable or not, Xander would not wait for death. At the last moment he lashed out with the butts of both guns. It did little damage but the young master flinched. This reaction saved Xander's life as it tackled/landed on him instead of the neck bite he would have received. Once on the ground the master gained control in the blink of an eye and seized Xander throat in his maw.   
  
Then he burst to dust and Xander was looking at an angel. 


	4. The change

Title: Claws and Chaos   
  
Author: Heathen92   
  
Disclaimer: I own known of these characters, just Xander's current predicament and a cardboard box.   
  
Rating: PG-13   
  
A moment later Xander was helped to his feet and was able to survey his handy work. He saw the corpses and dust that had been trod on as the refreshments beat a hasty retreat. As well as the surprise on Faith's face when she had a moment to think.  
  
But mostly he just saw the unattended bar. And it wasn't as if the cops were going to come beating down the door of this club.  
  
"So… Can I get you a drink?"  
  
+ + + +   
  
To Xander's dismay their drinking was delayed by the fact that Faith insisted they drink elsewhere. There was no way she was going to drink around all those corpses like he had suggested. So they spent fifteen minutes looking for a bar in silence.  
  
Faith settled down in one of the many leather barstools as Xander ordered them each a vodka. The slayer knew that this was her best bet for getting his story. Hopefully she could get him to open up before he either got pissed off or to drunk to talk.   
  
Like last time.  
  
"How is it you dusted these guys with out a stake? 'Cause it doesn't look like those knives could do the trick." She inquired raising her glass to her lips. Jumping to the question she really wanted to ask 'Where the hell have you been?' Hadn't gone over too well last time.  
  
Xander pulled his jacket to the side to reveal his larger pistol: a .357 magnum.  
  
"Uhh, that won't kill a vampire Xan."  
  
"Mine will." he claimed He took out the clip and removed a single bullet. Removing the shell from the casing revealed a small amount of grass in the bullet. "These are hollow-points, when they get into a target they shatter, like a very tiny grenade. But I stuff mine with grass, or any plant, and the round carries it into the heart before breaking."   
  
"Holy cr… I always thought it had to be wood."  
  
"I look at it this way. Vamps are dead things right? And I remember from biology that life begins with energy from the sun. I read up on this in textbook about a year after I left. The UV rays from the sun hits earth and the plants suck it up, getting a lot of energy. Then animals eat the plants, but only get a small amount of the energy. Opposites cancel each other out so when a Vamp is effected by that kind of energy it dies. The Sun kills on contact, because it's a huge source of it. Wood and plants need to be in the heart because they are weaker and need to go to the source of the guys un-life. In a way it's not about wood or light. It's about life… I need to use a large caliber guns to get in their and make sure the plant gets exposed at exactly the right time. And sometimes I do get right and it doesn't work."  
  
Faith had to take a moment to consider this. It would be more useful if it could be done at range, because a gun is a hell of a lot easier to handle than a crossbow.  
  
"So what do you do these days Faith?"  
  
"Data input. Anyone can do it, and I get a lot of sick days."  
  
Xander nodded and there was a moment of silence as he went back to his drink. Faith decided to take advantage of the pause. "So why did you leave us, Xan-man? You had more of a right to be there then I did."  
  
Xander frowned into the bottom of his glass and moved to fill it. "I guess I just got real pissed off." He blinked when as he felt Faith's slender, yet callused, hand stop his. 'She wants me sober so she can interrogate me.' he thought before continuing to speak "Buffy leaving only two people to guard each exit was beyond reckless. Had she put even one Slayer at each hole Anya would still be alive."  
  
"Is that really why? Because you don't sound broken up."  
  
"It was a long time ago. And I had wanted to get out on my own for awhile."   
  
"So you fight vampires with no back-up."  
  
"It's a living."  
  
"Hey, after what you got from Anya why do you all of a sudden need another living."  
  
Xander's eyes narrowed. 'Damn Deadboy told' "That's in the bank. I don't even want to touch it."  
  
Faith's head tilted to the side, a bird like gesture that made her curiosity plain to the untrained eye. "Then what your day job?" From the looks of him he obviously wasn't living hand-to-mouth.  
  
"I mug demons."  
  
The Slayer nearly toppled out of her chair laughing. She didn't doubt him for a second, but the vision of a demon coughing up the cash to ANY human was hysterical. When she finally came down she discovered she'd laughed a little too long.  
  
Twenty dollars had been laid on the table and Xander was gone.  
  
+ + + +   
  
Peter Culliford was pissed.  
  
In and of itself this was not a rare thing. The unusual part in all this was that his anger showed. Culliford was a master manipulator, and prided himself on emotional control. But Xander, this boy, continued to frustrate him. In order to use Xander properly he needed to unlock all his potential.   
  
So he needed Xander to fail.  
  
So far Xander came out unscathed no matter what death trap he was sent to. And just tonight he received word that the hunter survived his mission against a large group of vampires. MASTER vampires for god sake.  
  
But as ever, he had a back up plan.  
  
+ + + +   
  
A mere hour later eight people joined him in his spacious office. The anger and frustration was gone form Culliford's. He was bright happy and reassuring. His assistant Tamara had grown to call this his Moby face. It was one for selling. "Seven of the people in this room lost someone, I hear."  
  
"There's only one 'person' here." Arianna, most likely the strongest of vampires in his office, spat. Person or no, they all had an amount of grief written across their features.  
  
"If you insist. The reason I asked you all here is I know who did it."  
  
"What 'chu say?" demanded one vampire with obvious ties to the Jersey mob.   
  
"He's been causing problems for our organization," Culliford was exactly lying either "And we've been monitoring him, but we aren't strong enough to go head with him." 'An expert speaker always pauses to things sink in' "So we need-"  
  
"I'll do it." Arianna spoke up.  
  
Not to out done the Jersey vamp stepped up as well, and soon they had all agreed and been told where they would find him tomorrow night. Even they killed the boy without triggering him, They would all owe Pentex a favor.   
  
Later that night Culliford reclined in his chair with a cigar congratulating himself on a job well done.  
  
+ + + +  
  
[The next night- the night of the change]  
  
Arianna had caught the stupid Hunter's eye early on that night.  
  
The plan she and her mate had devised was for her to seduce him, lure him outside, and then the others would surround him. They would've killed him right there, but the exec wanted him toyed with. Apparently the guy had really pissed him off.  
  
Now they were on a crowded dance floor, grinding to a techno mix. His dance wasn't quite violent, though aggressive enough for her tastes. She had never turned a hunter before, but he was cute. Stupid, but cute. 'Yes.' she decided 'I will turn him. Stimulating conversation can be taught after all'   
  
She heard him smell her hair as she danced with her back to him. "Let's go find somewhere more private… lover." She turned to him and gave a little grin. She had done this many times before. The key wasn't in convincing them. They had to convince themselves. So she let them curl their hands in her raven hair and feel her pale cream skin. A cake walk.  
  
Five minutes found them in an alley way. As they kissed the totally unexpected happened. The boy shoved two knives into her chest and kneed her away.  
  
+ + + +   
  
Xander was in the midst of making a little money when he was ambushed. This sweet little dead thing had taken him out for a little suck (and maybe more from how she had been moving earlier) when he went to work. He used the knives on her and was about to draw when something dropped behind him and whipped him around.  
  
He was faced with a large vamp with a cigar, one who was obviously a fan of the Sopranos. "You think you 'kin my Davey and get away wit' it? That what ya think? You little sh-" Xander took advantage of his assailants chatter to put a doctored bullet in his chest.  
  
He had dusted one, but many others surrounded him. In the space of thirty seconds he was completely surrounded. As before he would not simply give up. It was hopeless though. After minute they just toyed with him.   
  
One sank it's fangs into his neck and began to drain him. 'So here's how it ends? Those who live by the sword…' But the end didn't come. His beating continued until his arms were seized and he was forced to his knees. Prone before the vamp he'd led out here in the first place.  
  
"You killed a lot of us last night," she began "…including my dear Bethany…" then she bent down to him and whispered into his ear conspiratorially "…Welcome to the family."  
  
She withdrew and kissed his forehead, then his lips running her tongue over his lips. She pouted when he didn't respond. No way he was going to give her the satisfaction. As she began to kiss her way down to the wound one of the others had made, Xander felt a boiling rage consume him. He saw only red.  
  
Were he allowed to stand as he changed, his height would have swelled to nine feet. As it were he grew to six feet on his knees. The vampires that once restrained him clung to him now. His arms grew in length to rival that of his legs as he gained at the very least six times his weight. Hands become talons tipped with razor sharp claws as his mouth elongated with large canine teeth. Most telling was the silver gray fur that grew out of every pore.  
  
Xander knew none of this. Transported by rage he spent a long moment merely trembling in anger. (This was actually only three seconds, though any of those present would disagree.) In his moment of inaction the vampiress Arianna took in the sight of his form.   
  
She was a killer. Had been for nearly three centuries. For those two hundred and seventy-seven years she had murdered almost nightly. (very few vampires could afford the attention gained from killing every night. Raging and feeding most of the week. In short, she was a killer. Arianna smiled, slowly. It wasn't a smile worn to manipulate, it was the smile of someone who finds what they been looking for their whole life. (And beyond.)  
  
It was a tremendous contrast as the slender vampire of only five feet stood on her toes to caress the snout of the werewolf on it's knees. For a breath's time the scene was a poet's dream as beauty and the literal beast stood at peace. "Beautiful." was the vampire's last coherent word  
  
Then the Werewolf (for there was no mistaking what it was.) snarled. The moment broke and Arianna's human mask slipped away with her own snarl. She struck him hard with her fist to no avail with a blow that would have finished the man, but was nothing to this beast. It's massive right arm became a blur of motion that belied it's great size and the vampire was reduced to only so much dust. The minion that had tried to restrain that arm for his turning was flung off like nothing.  
  
The wolf rose to his full nine feet. The vamp on his left remained only as long as it took the beast to notice him. Grabbing the screaming thing in one mighty paw he flung as if it were a rag doll by an angry child. This done, he arched his back as he roared with the rage and ferocity of many lions.  
  
Several of his attackers retreated a step at this. But they were all killers at heart and soon rejoined the battle. This was alright with the wolf.  
  
He lashed out with his sharp talons when they made to flank him. He bit through necks when he could, spiting out the ashen remainder as he moved on. He caught one fighter in his great paw, and prepared to crush it with his other when he caught her scent. He instead flung her away deciding against it.  
  
He fought furiously until all that remained was the little girl and himself.  
  
His chest heaved as he came down from his fit, and the ground got higher. It occurred to him as his mind cleared that he was actually getting smaller. His clothing returned with his human form. But the blood on his hands stayed on his hands. He should have been used to it, but in truth it was not the blood that bothered him.  
  
"I-I'm a demon?!?" That was all he got out before falling to the alley way floor. Faith scrambled over to check on him. She found a small tranquilizer dart in his back. "What the hell?"  
  
Three men stood at the mouth of the alley way. The two on either stood in full riot gear and she couldn't see their faces. The one in the middle was a middle-aged executive with graying red hair and beard and a slight belly under his expensive suit held the tranq gun.  
  
"Who the #$%& hell are you!" the time for subtlety is gone and Faith decides to speak her mind.  
  
"I'm Peter Culliford. That young man's employer." the Exec gestures to Xan's prone form.  
  
"He said he didn't work for anyone, and you just shot him in the back. Give me one reason I shouldn't just kick your ass and take him home with me?" As she spoke the exec had loaded a different type of dart into the gun and now shot her with it. She rushed him anyway but fell short scant feet from her target. "You must be one of those Slayers that I've heard so much about…"   
  
She mercifully blacked out before she had to listen to his spiel.  
  
+ + + +  
  
[An unknown amount of time later]  
  
Xander awoke to a dull ache in every part of his body. If he were to say: 'I just went ten rounds with Mike Tyson.' He would be making a vast understatement. Shifting slightly in his (hospital?) bed he reached over and slid an I.V. out of his arm. Sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of his bed he examined his surrounding closer.  
  
He didn't find much. Just his bed, and I.V., and a vent. And most importantly a door. Heading over he turned the knob and met resistance. Deciding he didn't want to be here anymore, Xander put his shoulder to the door. Then his feet. 'Mental Note: never try and break down doors whilst bare-foot.' He sighed in frustration he got ready to try again with the foot.  
  
"That will never work, Cub."  
  
"Huh- who the hell was that?" Xander whipped his head around trying to find the owner of the voice. There was still nothing but: Bed, Drip, and vent. "Was I drinking?" giving up the hunter sat heavily on the cot and decided to bide his time. Then the voice returned.  
  
"Who I am matters not, Cub. What matters is that you cannot stay here and don't know how to get out." 


	5. Visions, Spirits, and Escape

The voice in his head 'what a disturbing thought' seemed to be reasonably intelligent and wise, perhaps enough to get him out of here, but definitely not human. Xander ran through various observations and analysis' he could never have articulated. From the tones mannerisms, tone, rate, and inflection he could tell that it was very old as well. He just couldn't figure out what it was.  
  
As for what it wanted… well that was much simpler.  
  
"If you know a way out of here why don't you share? Or do want to just bait me all day."  
  
/As attractive a thought that is, I had better get you out first. And you don't need to speak. If you direct a thought to me I'll hear you well enough.\ Once again there was no inflection or tone with which the werewolf could discern the voice's age or motives. /Then how do I get out of this room?\ the werewolf thought and waited for a response. /The door. It should pose little trouble for one of your kind.\  
  
'my kind?' The previous night returned in a rush. The thought of that night, lack of control and the rage he felt frightened him badly. At the same time the feeling of power and freedom thrilled him to the core of his being. /You are not yet experienced enough to control the war form, but you might be able to use some of it's strength. Move over to the door and place your hands on the knob-side.\   
  
The newly changed werewolf did as he was told. Frankly because he had nothing better to do. /Now focus your rage on the door and push. Try thinking of a past failure or an old rival.\ the voice instructed. Xander focused inward and dredged up the faces of many friends and loved ones he had lost. This was easy enough as he remembered them all in his troubled sleep. They were, after all, the very reason he chose his current profession.  
  
The hunter heard a crack as the door began to splinter outward. /It's actually working!\ Xander marveled. /What did you expect?\ the voice chastised Before he could respond he caught sight of his arms. They had bulged and swelled to twice their normal size and sprouted hair. The wolf fell back with a cry and he reverted to his normal shape. /Just as well. Had you fully changed I would have a much harder job.\ The voice had taken on a placating tone.   
  
Seated firmly on his rump on the very cold floor Xander looked up at the door. It was cracked and splintered nearly open after only a few seconds of light pushing. The disconcerting part was the grooves that had been scratched in.  
  
Claw marks.  
  
One kick was all it took to cave the door in the rest of the way. Once he was out he knew where he was.  
  
+ + + +   
  
Faith had woken up a few hours later on the cold alleyway floor. Xander was gone any trail she could follow had gotten cold before she even woke up.  
  
She had spent the next few days looking up on what the Xan-man was up to. She'd found a gunsmith he spent some time with. She'd been expecting a lecherous good ol' boy type but had ended up finding a man so similar to Giles it was uncanny. He'd only been able to tell her that Xan had a job in the city and was one hell of gunman. So nothing she didn't already know.   
  
She headed over to beat Willy (it was tradition after all) she had learned that Xander was pulling down some serious cash. But he wasn't really spending it. Interesting, yeah, but not anything she could use.   
  
After a few days of frustration she had found out one name. Pentex. She had no idea what they did, why they did it, or what their resources were. Oh joy.  
  
X had better be grateful.  
  
+ + + +   
  
Xander knew the layout to Pentex's field office and went straight to the armory. The fact that he'd woken up at night was a tad disturbing. He'd hidden in a few well placed cabinets on the way as he didn't want to be seen. And only part of that was because he was bare-ass naked. If he had ended up in a Pentex building it was because they'd brought him here against his will.   
  
After a rather embarrassing fight against the guard, he was free to recover his knives, guns, and (most importantly his clothes. He'd taken a shotgun and some extra shells for insurance.   
  
He'd briefly considered heading up and killing Culliford, but thought it a better idea to comeback and engage on his terms. He'd not survived his job this long via stupidity.  
  
His guide had stayed silent throughout the trip, and chose now to speak up. /It's important that you control yourself until your out. And only fight if you have too. If the beast gets loose here your finished.\  
  
Xander didn't really need to be told this, but at least he knew that whoever it was talking in his at least had theirs screwed on straight. He had walked casually out to the lobby, nodding at anyone who knew his face. He made it halfway across the entrance lobby before he was stopped.   
  
Five guards had charged in with tranq rifles. As they had barked orders and knelt into firing positions the werewolf turned and opened up with both pistols. The lobby had several circular benches with high garden in the middle and Xander ran and slid on his back behind one now. One stupid or gutsy (it came down to the same thing) had come around to get him.   
  
He was rewarded with a shotgun blast to the torso. He didn't have time to pump a new shell in before next came around the other side. Xander let go of the shotgun and drew his pistols above his head and fired a quick four round burst into the man's sternum and throat.  
  
Now he had to think how many of them he had killed with the first shots. Two? None? He tossed his shotgun out into the open as a distraction. It's wide spread was useless at the range he needed and the clatter gave him the time to peek out. Three. Xander gave a sigh of relief and walked to retrieve his new gun. Halfway there the voice spoke up. /Look to the entrance!\  
  
Xander turned and saw a man in a dirty flannel shirt, jeans, and a wrinkled raincoat. His hair was stringy and the skin was ruddy, but this didn't hold a candle to the cast of madness in his eyes. Beyond this the werewolf had an instinctual anger at the man. He smelled (thanks to the Hyena this was not all that overwhelming) wrong. Xander noticed the sword in the mans coat as the freak grinned at his guns. /Those will do you know good here. Put them away!\  
  
Xander didn't entirely trust the voice and opened fire anyway. The man grinned and grew tall, large, and furry. Xander was very much disgusted. Though he had not seen himself, his form had been majestic and beautiful even as it was terrible. But this thing… It's coat had splotches of black mixed with red. And small spines erupted from it's chest and back. The hunter fired a total of eleven times, striking cleanly with seven. The wolf reacted as if stung by a bee and the wounds closed. The shooter sorrowfully holstered his guns. /You have no choice. You must change.\  
  
The abomination's clothing had faded like a ghost with his clothing, but it's sword remained. A silver sword. With this threat and the creature's mere presence Xander had no trouble changing. He, in fact, barely realized he had done it. Like something had made him change. It was maintaining control that was the problem. /Survive. I will help you as soon as I can.\  
  
In his great war form Xander stood a head taller and six inches longer at the shoulders than his foe. But Xander didn't know what the hell he was doing and had no weapons. If the silver and red wolves decided to go toe-to-toe he would lose. And that's exactly what the red wolf did.  
  
The red swung it's blade in a horizontal arc hoping to take it's silver foe's head in swing. Xander ducked and threw an uppercut to it's exposed belly. Clawing still felt odd to him. As he rose he made certain to grab it's sword arm. He was stronger and might have wrestled the sword from him, but the red touched him lightly and Xander flew to the ground several feet away. The red charged as the fallen silver wolf pondered what the hell just happened. The freak brought it's weapon down in a powerful, but slow, killing arc.   
  
Xander barely rolled out of the way and retaliated by kicking up while lifting himself with his arms. His claws had raked across it's chest with no real planning on the wolf's part. The deep red lines wouldn't heal like the bullets and the monstrosity screamed as it's silver opponent regained his feet and grabbed for his sword arm.   
  
The red wolf was wielding the silver weapon two-handed, but Xander seized it's hands with both of his. He brought it up above their heads, bringing them face to face. The thing snapped at him and he barely brought his head back in time. /I am ready.\ the voice had returned and it had better be ready.   
  
It was.  
  
The feeling of invasion washed over Xander again as it had when he had changed involuntarily to fight this corrupt wolf. And now he knew who was behind it. A silver light suddenly flared from his body. His opponent was surprised and feel backward, dropping it's blade. /Throat! Now!\ the voice demanded Xander was happy to oblige. /Take the blade. Corrupted hands should not be allowed to use it.\  
  
/Amen to that.\ Xander thought at the voice. Thankfully his clothes and weapons returned his human form.  
  
Moments later he jogged through the parking lot as a fresh pair of guards burst out the entrance. He turned and fired suppressing shots as they scrambled. He smashed in the window of the nearest car and crouched down in the seat to avoid bullets as he hot-wired it. /You and I are going to have a talk as soon as I'm out of here.\ Xander projected. He received a feeling in response. He couldn't be sure but he thought the voice just shrugged. /If you are able to hear the tales, cub, I'll gladly tell them.\  
  
+ + + +   
  
Fifteen minutes afterward Peter Culliford was once again brought to visible anger by the young werewolf. He had not only escaped after FINALLY becoming useful, but he'd killed a very valuable employee.  
  
And stolen his car.  
  
+ + + +   
  
"I never asked to be a werewolf." Xander spoke out loud now as he was alone and thought talk had irritated him when Willow had done it. He wasn't going to do it for someone he didn't know. "And… Wait a minute! I never got bit!"  
  
There was a long silence before his unseen companion responded. /Very few indeed ask to be born.\  
  
"What do you mean: born?"  
  
/You were never bitten. You were born.\  
  
This elicited a long pause from the young man. "A born werewolf."  
  
/You are not a werewolf. The werewolf you speak of is a human suffering from a disease. You are Garou.\  
  
"As in Loup-Garou."  
  
/… Yes. Very good. That is what the men of the middle continent called your kind. An off shoot of the name you chose for yourselves.\  
  
A few minutes passed by as the voice let this sink in.  
  
/Your race is an in-between race. Born of men, wolves, and lately werewolf unions. It is rare and considered taboo for two changing werewolves to breed together.\  
  
Xander remained silent.  
  
/Yours is a warrior race. Garou are supposed to guard nature, roam the spirit realms, and fight corruption.\  
  
"What do you mean supposed to?" Xander wanted to know, but the voice fell silent.  
  
For awhile at least. /Pullover.\ He pulled over in front of an alley. /Go inside and look for a mirror.\ Xander didn't need to look long. A small compact was that stank of fear had been discarded. The scent was fresh. When Xander insisted on following it further into the alley (after all why had he found it?) the voice made him keep it in his pocket.   
  
Continuing down the alley he turned a corner and came to a dead end, the girl who smelled of fear, and a wino who was way to horny. The fact that after he took care of the wino the girl smelled even more of fear directed at him made him bristle. He choked it down though, he couldn't afford any outbursts.  
  
Afterwards he took out the mirror and the voice told him what to do with it. Told him to focus on his eyes in the mirror, then stop, then focus on his surroundings in mirror, then stop again. 'waste of time' Xander thought as he pocketed the mirror again. He looked up and his jaw dropped.   
  
+ + + +   
  
At that moment Faith walked through the sparse desert hard pan.  
  
In reality her body was resting peacefully in her bed as she slept in the dead of night. A comforter and quilt guarding against the cold.  
  
In another, equally valid, way she was trudging through the sand under the hot sun.  
  
In the dream so far she had traveled across plains, steppes, mountains, tundra, and a beach. A bird was flying twenty feet ahead of her. Had been for the whole time she'd been dreaming. She could tell what kind of bird it was though. Even though it had stayed twenty feet ahead the whole time. If she spend up, so did it. If she slowed or stopped it would slow down or circle.  
  
She held on to the conscious rationality of the waking world. Yet she only knew one thing for sure.  
  
Catch. The. Bird.   
  
As she entered a forest path she wondered if she was chasing it or it was leading her. Either way she kept on. She believed it would lead her to… something. Something important. It wasn't until the trees filled with snow and they reached a clearing that she caught up. It perched on a low tree branch level with her chest. It didn't take flight as she drew nearer and she saw what it was.  
  
A falcon.  
  
In the waking world she didn't know the difference between a finch and a humming bird. Here, though, she knew this to be a falcon. It seemed important what kind of bird it was.  
  
She was standing right next to it now and it cocked it's head and stared at her the way that only a bird can. She reached out and stroked it atop the head. It seemed to enjoy it, so she scratched the side of it's head as it leaned into her finger.   
  
Having had enough of this the bird fluttered it's wings. She drew back her finger on reflex. It bobbed it's head and pointed with it's beak toward the clearing. Nodding she stroked it one more time and headed into the clearing.  
  
She found a werewolf like the one she had seen six days ago standing there. But this one had both eyes as well as scars that crisscrossed it's arms and chest. And was old. A huge serpent materialized and fought the wolf. Faith strode forward to aid the wolf and the fighters paused.   
  
The serpent glared at the interloper and slithered off. "I will see to you later." it hissed over it's shoulder.   
  
The werewolf closed the distance to two feet in front of her.   
  
Looking it she felt no fear, and in it's eyes she saw no anger or blood lust. Then it changed. Where once it stood nearly twice her height now it was a old man only a head taller than her. He might have been in his sixtieth year, but was still strong and looked like he had a few strong years ahead of him. His white hair was tied back in a tail as his cobalt eyes shone from beneath a noble brow.  
  
"We have been cut deep." he lamented and changed again. Now Xander stood before her. His false eye gone and only an empty socket showing. He was a contrast to the gentle nobility of the figure that preceded him. He spoke with venom and penned in rage. "Yet we must still fight!" With that he changed to a wolf and took off the way the serpent had gone as the woods burst into flame.   
  
"Xander!" she cried after him "Don't go, you fool! You'll die!" But he paid her pleas no heed and disappeared into the burning forest. Faith fell to her knees.  
  
Unscathed by the flames the falcon took wing and found a perch on the arm she hadn't realized she lifted. Having a hunting bird this close to your face was a stupid idea in the long sad history of stupid ideas. Why did she do this? Why had Xander charged off to his death? Why does anything happen the way they do in dreams?  
  
Then the falcon spoke. "If he stands alone, he will die. If his rage is not held in check, he will fall. He no longer knows what it is to be part of a pack. His soul has grown weak." A twisted, monstrous version of Xander staggered beyond the tree-line and collapsed in a heap near Faith as the flames licked his body. "No. That won't happen. I won't let it."  
  
"Then he will need the aid of strong ones such as you…" this came from the nobleman who appeared near her, staring down at the burned heap of Xander's remains sorrowfully. "For all our sake."  
  
+ + + +   
  
Xander found himself in the exact same area he had been in when he used the mirror. But his surroundings had changed. the streets and buildings were covered in webs that shone with energy. Mechanical spiders the size of huge dogs walked these webs doing gods knows what. One looked at him from the wall in front of him. It beeped at him and went back to doing whatever it was doing. /Those are order spirits.\ the voice supplied.   
  
Xander was beyond caring at that point and was so completely overwhelmed that he missed the sensation of the voice intruding in his body to do another of it's "tricks."   
  
A small vortex opened behind him and he was sucked in. He was hurled through a churning mass as he traveled. It wasn't just energy. It was potential. Creative energy. He would have been exhilarated had he not been dumbfounded.   
  
He landed on the ground in a forest clearing. He began to regather his wits and felt the warmth of a fire to his right. And heard a low growl to his left.  
  
He sprang up and looked around. Easily a dozen people and a few wolves surrounded the campfire. A few crept towards him before the man who was probably their leader stepped forward. An old man who was still hardy and sharp like a younger man. He had an aura of respect and nobility that emanated from him. He stared into Xander's choclate eyes with his own cobalts.   
  
The leader sniffed Xander deeply and held up a hand and nodded. One of the wolves trotted over, stood on hind legs to a height of nearly eight feet, and grinned.  
  
Then he knocked new werewolf cold. 


	6. Garou Nation: First Look

Title: Claws & Chaos  
  
Author: Heathen92  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. Kinda wish I did.  
  
Note: Sorry I've been away so long. Life stuff got in the way  
  
Despite their intense curiosity, the assembled shape changers didn't crowd in around the fallen warrior.  
  
Claudia Stands-Firm of the Black Furies tribe was especially curious.  
  
Werewolves were cunning creatures by nature and knew to keep their distance from something this odd. Then there was the fact that King Albrecht had ordered them to make room for his inspection. He had given Fang-Fist leave strike the new arrival down within moments of his arrival, and now pawed around the guy and through his possessions.   
  
This particular garou was odd in that he had acted surprised to see them. Despite coming on a moon-bridge, a doorway that werewolves could open using a complicated ritual. The bridge was not quite so disquieting as the weaponry he carried.   
  
The majority of their kind shunned firearms, but this one wore guns strapped under each armpit. Still, that wasn't unheard of. The shocker was the silver sword on in his coat. Many garou used silver knives imbued with war spirits called klaives in battle, but swords, or Grand-Klaives were much rarer and contained not one but two war spirits. To see such an increasingly rare weapon in the hands of an obvious novice would wake anyone in the morning.  
  
Or the dead of night in this case.  
  
Claudia sighed, losing interest and returned to bonfire. Many packs were on the move together, and she wanted to get back to hers. Let Albrecht bat around his little toy. She shifted into a small wolf with a shining black coat. Pawing at the ground in her warmer wolf form, she nested and tried to sleep.  
  
Albrecht's tribe, the Silver Fangs, had a reputation for madness on occasion. She'd been told that he had chased down and killed his own madness long before she had been born. But, hey, people take steps backward all the time.   
  
She rolled over and cracked one of her eyes open. The oddity had been stripped of his weapons and Albrecht sniffed around his neck. 'Definitely a little batty' she scoffed inwardly. Then the big silver werewolf grasped his curiosity's torso and disappeared. 'Why bring him to the umbra?' Claudia pondered. She would never ever understand Elders.   
  
+ + + +   
  
Within the Umbra, or the spirit world as it was commonly known, Albrecht and the boy were alone.  
  
Which was not the result the elder werewolf hoped for.  
  
So he waited in the clearing next to the man who had crashed into their camp during the night. In the Umbra, if something was meant to happen at all, something would happen on it's own time. After an hour or so the King heard a rustling in the branches overhead. He elected to stand his ground rather than try and force the issue. A pissed off spirit leads to meaningless quest, Albrecht learned on his own long ago.  
  
A small owl fluttered into view in a high branch. "You seek wisdom O King. Do you not?" the Owl hooted, his head quirking to the side. "I do. What can you tell me of this boy Owl?" Owl flapped down to the forest floor, hopping to Xander's side, opposite Albrecht.  
  
"Big. Important. This silver cub just endured his first change."  
  
"Silver?" At the silver wolf's question Owl only blinked. Owl was wise beyond compare, but not one to give easy answers. He had been given much to think on already.  
  
The majority of cubs first changed between the ages of thirteen and sixteen. The man before him was in his late twenties. This also raised question of how he had acquired a grand-klaive and used a moon-bridge. It also caused Albrecht to wonder how the boy had received a battle-scar without changing. But, he would dwell on that later. "Why is he important?" the Owl beckoned him forward in response. The great king leaned forward… and was pecked many times between the eyes. And with an owl that hurts.  
  
"Do you expect me to do all thinking? You will find out soon enough." Albrecht pulled his head back and bit back his rage before giving voice to his next question. "Do you think he will be so renowned? A legend mayhap?"  
  
The flustered owl cocked his head at the king. "No, you will be the one to train him." Having given his advice, or marching orders depending on where one stood, the spirit took wing.  
  
Albrecht prowled the umbra for nearly an hour afterward before returning to the cub with his bounty.  
  
Herbs. More importantly, herbs that would keep the cub asleep long enough to return home.   
  
This done, he returned to the physical world and gave a few orders of his own.  
  
+ + + +   
  
Xander didn't wake up, not really. He was conscious for a scant minute, but not awake enough to comprehend his surroundings. This was a good thing in fact. Had he awakened enough to realize he was being carried by a huge gray wolf a fight would have broken out. But Albrecht's herbs were strong, and while they didn't take Xander's heroic tolerance for alcohol into account, they proved effective enough to put him back under. The newly changed man merely let his head fall against the wolf's chest as he lost consciousness again.  
  
+ + + +   
  
Over the past few weeks Xander had awaken in many strange beds. Most notably being a hospital-like cot in one of his old employer's compounds just after his first change. Sometime before that he had woken up on Faith's couch after a binder.   
  
This morning: four-poster bed. This would have put any other person at ease, but Xander was almost immediately put on the defensive. This either meant someone was trying to coerce him or someone rich as god. Neither one carried much appeal.  
  
A tall man of about thirty entered the young warrior's temporary abode and started noticeably. If the interloper noticed he didn't show it. He had a somewhat regal bearing even as a servant, his dress of a quasi-formal setup uncommon to service. Xander had no idea how knew this man to be a servant. The way the man carried himself and his clothing would set him as one of the high-society who should by rights be sleeping in this bed. Yet somehow the man in the door struck him as someone who should be a servant to himself. Like he should submit. As odd as that sounded.  
  
Another curiosity. When he "started" the servant hadn't even moved. But Xander had sensed something… something at the edges of his mind… his senses. The sensation was at once an alien intruder and a friend to be welcomed home. Every thing seemed much clearer than usual. And more intense. He couldn't help but wonder; Was this what monster felt like?  
  
That thought was so bad he completely forgot about the servant. The one that had disappeared. Crap.  
  
+ + + +   
  
Nearly three-hundred yards from the befuddled young man, his captor was "closing a deal." For any respected businessman this would mean either a spacious office or boardroom. For a more violent man, an infamous crime lord for instance, it would involve bullets and perhaps the creative use of lumberjacking tools. But Albrecht, who had subdued and drugged Xander just the night before, was neither a respected business-man nor an infamous crime lord. He was a werewolf. The deal he closed took place in the forest near his New Jersey manor where the snow had begun to fall. The air was crisp and the smells of man's world, even those of his home, could not be smelled off-hand. This was important to put Albrecht's guest at ease.   
  
Most other members of his people were off-put by cities and towns, living amongst the humans and all that. To compromise his mansion had been built deep within the woods so that only a short walk would distance them from any smells of man or the sterile mockery he had made of his world.   
  
Today the old king's meeting was with an Elder of Michigan. A member of the Star Gazer tribe, the philosophers and seers of the Garou Nation.  
  
Black Rindle, the elder in question, was a bit of rarity among the Garou. He had taken control of his area from his father by force when the previous elder had fallen under the sway of their ancient enemy. Not uncommon on it's own Black Rindle was a Metis. A pariah of the Garou people marked from birth with a deformity (in this case a prominent hump on the werewolf's back) and usually barred from any sort of leadership position.  
  
So Rindle's rule was a controversy at the very least. But in his time Albrecht had learned a thing or two about tolerance. In troubled times allies must be treasured and, if what the metis said was true, these would soon be troubled times indeed.  
  
"Describe this vision, Black Rindle," Albrecht wore the look of a battle-weary general told he must return to war "and omit nothing."  
  
"I saw a great serpent coiled in a ring, and swallowing it's own tail. And within the ring there were men, and wolves, and foul spirits dancing around emerald fire, and…" Black Rindle faltered at this last phrase.  
  
"What did you see?"  
  
"My father danced among them."  
  
Arrangements were made afterwards. On his way home Rindle would tell his vision to others. Calls would be made and messengers sent to more remote areas. The nation would be warned. As the visitor left Albrecht's mind wandered and returned to the odd cub recovered while he traveled, just yesterday. Owl had said the boy was important, and the very day after he had received this news.  
  
As he returned to his manor his butler informed him that the man had awoken. In order for that to be true , Albrecht mused, he would have to have immense fortitude or be a hopeless drunk with a built up tolerance. 


	7. Garou Nation: I hate the spirit world

Title: Claws & Chaos  
  
Author: Heathen92  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. Kinda wish I did.  
  
Feedback: I need it, I crave it! Feed my addiction.  
  
[A/N: Just a quick survey, How many people understand half of what's going on here? 'Cause I could tone it down a little... Oh who am I kidding. I'll just do a teaching chapter if you guys want.]  
  
'First things first.' Xander said to know one in particular as he rose from the bed. Waking up nearly (or completely) naked and weaponless was sadly becoming pretty well standard procedure for him.  
  
Cursing internally Xander opened the closet to search for clothing only to find nothing. Nothing, nada, not a single stitch of fabric to be found. 'Oh well,' he grumbled in his head 'at least they left me in boxers this time.' The ongoing search for dignity was interrupted as someone entered the room behind him.  
  
The recently changed werewolf spun around to face the interloper, most likely the servant or a guard of some sort.   
  
Instead an old man with a small bag stood in the doorway. He could easily have passed for sixty, but Xander figured him for maybe mid- or even early-fifties. The man was scarred on every visible part of his body. An obvious warrior, he was an example of how those of that profession seemed to age quickly. But if not slain in battle seemed to persist in this world for a very, very long time His long silver hair and noble features did nothing to impress a stitch-less Xander, but one aspect of his appearance did: a shared malady.  
  
The interloper was also missing one of his eyes, now covered with an ornamental patch.  
  
"If you search for your weapons, we left them near at hand. As for clothing..." the old man tossed his sack onto the bed.  
  
"Who are-?"  
  
"There will enough time for that later cub. I must apologize that we left nothing for you to wear, but we did not expect to wake for another day." The old man had interrupted with the air of authority used by those who earned (or at least thought they did) respect. "You will find your weapons in the bureau." the older man nodded towards the squat varnished furniture on the other side of the bed "Clothe and arm yourself as you see fit and then join me in the courtyard. There I will make my explanations." And with that he curtly turned and left the room.  
  
Xander had half a mind to dress, gather his weapons, and then leave. But the old man knew something about his new condition, he might even know a whole hell of a lot. So, against his better judgment, Xander decided to hear him out.  
  
+ + + +   
  
Much to Xander's chagrin the sack of clothes only had business dress: slacks and button-up shirts. Thankfully his host had seen fit to include solid boots. Xander had come a long way since the Hawaiian shirts of his youth but a monkey suit was still a monkey suit and enough to make him uncomfortable.   
  
The house he woke up in wasn't even a house as it turned out. As he walked the halls trying to just find the courtyard he began to give it a rough estimate of a mansion, perhaps a very large one. Once he found his way outside he revised his opinion. The "mansion" he'd been in was just a wing: he was standing in the middle of a compound. A mansion might house a dozen maybe two tops. With a place this size he would be going up against as many four or five.   
  
Fighting his way out obviously wasn't an option. Running wouldn't get him far either; the Hyena and the Soldier had faded from his mind years ago. This had given him a grim pride. He'd made it on his own, inside his head and out, for these past few years. But whenever he found himself in the wild or dealing with a bureaucracy, he hated the quiet.  
  
No running. No fighting. Only one choice left. So he'd have to play along, be the dutiful servant until he had a chance in hell.  
  
The courtyard was a square about one-hundred feet on each side. Trees lined all along it's perimeter only broken at two points, a path that lead out to the wilderness (or perhaps another part of the compound) and one that opened on the door he had come from. The sort of games he had seen played by men who believed themselves to be arch-villains. The trees themselves were squat little pines that only came to just under the second floor window. The center of the courtyard held a pond built to look natural. Had he not known better Xander might have fell for it. It was only snowing lightly, but it was still cold enough to freeze the little pond.   
  
Xander crossed the pond as he proceeded to the opposite path. He had resolved to get the mind games over with quickly. As he neared the other passage he heard an alarmed cry behind him.  
  
"Stop!" Xander spun on his heels to find the old man jogging towards him. "Never there."  
  
"Why not? Afraid I might step on thorns?"  
  
"No, a women who stayed here a few years ago knew the... special arts of gardening. She managed to grow plant guardians for that passage. You might be safe enough but one couldn't be sure. They did catch a few fomori some time ago, though."  
  
At this the younger of the two stood with a puzzled expression. What the hell was a Fomori? What kind of nut did I fall in with this time?  
  
"Sorry. A Fomor is a human, changed and corrupted. Given power, but at a high cost. But that is jumping far ahead. What questions do you have? The sun has just begun to set, and I have much time to educate a new Silver Fang cub." The old man knew that a phrase like that wouldn't sit well with the cub but decided to be open as much as possible.   
  
"Okay then. What the hell is a Silver Fang, who the hell are you, and the &$%! does everyone keep calling me cub?!?!"  
  
"A tall order. But I will hold to my word. My name is King Jonas Albrecht of the Silver Fangs." It seemed to Xander that every time Albrecht spoke he generated questions then he answered. Before speaking again Albrecht motioned for him to follow and proceeded through the passage he had warned Xander of. As they moved by the foliage stirred slightly but suffered their passing.  
  
"You're the king?" Xander asked taking on his best English accent. "I don't remember voting for you."  
  
+ + + +   
  
Atop a battered old mahogany desk sat an old style rotary telephone. It managed to ring unanswered thirteen times before someone picked up. Hooray for the phone. That was a new record.  
  
The gnarled hand that broke the streak was slow considering how late it was. Chances are if someone holds on for that long they won't hang up quickly when you really do pick up. "Rupert Giles' office." the old brit drawled lazily. He'd let the phone ring that long because after having to listen to a veritable army of watchers who chose that one day to call in he was going to call it quits.  
  
"Sup G." Faith was on the other line, and that changed things considerably.  
  
"Faith, thank god, it's good you called. If I had to listen to one more little watcher complaining because his Slayer's is spending all night dancing..."  
  
"G-man I'm sorry but there's something I need to ask on first."  
  
"Go ahead." Giles was somewhat disappointed. But, it was his job after all.  
  
"Werewolves. Not like Oz either, I'm talking big ass doggie. Stands on two legs and about eight to ten feet tall. Not to mention the thing was around during a half-moon."  
  
"Wait a moment, I think I encountered something like that in the books about an hour ago. A beat please." Misunderstanding the meaning of the word 'beat' Faith performed a little drum roll on her desk so Giles could hear. He didn't complain.  
  
"Ah here it is: Lupines. Very large creatures that aren't actually werewolves."  
  
"Huh? I'm telling you it was a wolf!"  
  
"Well it may have been. These things are known to assume the forms of crows, leopards, bears, and even spiders. And, oh dear, it seems they..."  
  
"It seems they what?"  
  
"They... can change at will."  
  
"What!"  
  
"Erhm, it gets worse I'm afraid."  
  
"How much worse."  
  
"They have been known to use spells and disappear completely. No divining spells reveal them when they have faded."  
  
"...Shit."  
  
"If you need I can have a back-up team in the States in a few-"  
  
"No! I mean, I can handle it." No way did she want anyone else involved in this. She sure as hell didn't know them, but Xander had his reasons for separating from the gang. She wasn't about to lead any to him without him knowing.  
  
+ + + +   
  
"You have just recently changed, yes?" the 'King' asked "That's why we call you cub. As for the Silver Fangs... that is a bit more complicated." They arrived in a clearing as the last of night fell and Xander jumped almost two feet in the air from what he saw.  
  
Five statues stood in a line facing them. On the far left pedestal stood a statue of a man dressed in armor as a roman centurion. To the right of the centurion stood a Neanderthal. When looking closely it was actually the centurion, grown nearly a foot taller and much thicker, his hair more bushed and feral. On the far right of the line was a wolf, Xander couldn't discern the breed. To it's left a statue of a huge wolf was frozen in mid leap. It was nearly as large as a horse with huge paws and head.  
  
Xander both saw and didn't see these statues. As soon as he laid eyes on the middle statue all other thoughts left him. On the middle pedestal stood the monstrosity he'd become. Even bowed slightly it was easily eight feet tall. Every limb was a tree trunk. Yet he knew from experience that in execution they were every bit as graceful (if not more so) than those of a normal man's. Huge talons and claws obscenely out of proportion to the rest of its body. While a human fist might cover the area over it's heart, the wolf-man's mighty talons were grown were twice the size of what a body that size should have.   
  
And this to say nothing of the Lupine features of the head that somehow retained human expression. Or maybe now he could see expression that was hidden from him before.   
  
The strangest thing about the figure, however, was also what gave him largest hope: The creature was obviously built with death and destruction in mind. And yet, the expression on it's face was serene, almost contemplative. Scant moments later Albrecht spoke up.  
  
"Silver Fangs lead the Garou Nation. These," Albrecht gestured at the statues "are Garou, an in-between race. Not man. Not Wolf. Not Physical nor Spiritual. But all." So he was a monster after all. Xander drooped visibly. Albrecht continued regardless. "We are warriors first: We fight for Gaia the earth-mother. And we fight for man's survival." Xander lifted and turned to look at the king. Perhaps the solemn king had empathy for him after all. Albrecht placed both hands on Xanders shoulders. And changed.  
  
Jonas Albrecht was taller than Xander, not by much, but his change took lengthened the distance. In massive War-form, the king stood just shy of ten feet tall.  
  
After a moments difficulty Xander rose and joined him, now six inches shorter. "You *are* Garou. You are a Silver Fang. It is your destiny to lead and fight for Gaia."   
  
"Welcome Home Xander."  
  
+ + + +   
  
"Homid." Albrecht stood in front of the Centurion statue. "One of the three forms that Garou are born in. And by far the most prolific. A homid child will remain so until he endures his first change. Much of the time this is at puberty, but some change as late as eighteen, or their late twenties in your case. Obviously it is to Homids that we look when we need to deal with humans." As he spoke Albrecht moved nearer to the Neanderthal. "This is Glabro an in-between form rarely used. It is stronger and tougher than the homid form, but too coarse to interact with humans. And," the King's eyes flicked to the middle statue "there are better forms for war."  
  
Bypassing the middle statue completely the older man stood before the wolf. "A Lupus. Another of the forms that Garou are born in. The Wolf-born Garou have the hardest time in human society, in world of wolves things move fast and simple, human affairs are more complicated. The lupus hold that man weaves his web too tangled. And this statue to it's left is the hispo form. Another in-between. This one however finds more use. Lupus often taken on hispo form for battle, favoring the four-legged stance and bites. They just don't feel comfortable on two legs."  
  
"This is the Crinos form. The Metis, werewolves born of an unnatural union between two werewolves are born this way. When Garou fight, they take on this form. It is not a form for deliberation. A few spirits will speak with you while wearing Crinos, but the rage all Garou feel is most difficult to resist in this form. As you can see a man grows a third again his natural height and gains two and even three times his weight."  
  
Seeing the despondency on the cub's face Albrecht decided to end this session here. "Come Xander, you have learned enough for today. Now we eat and then you have many things that you have to tell me..."  
  
+ + + +  
  
The food here had been caught Xander off-guard by the food. In retrospect, these people were wolves, so the dining was perfectly reasonable.  
  
From the motley assortment of people moving through the compound (if what Albrecht was telling him about Garou rarity was true then this was a major hub for them) he had expected maybe a cafeteria or buffet area of some sort.  
  
Instead he was led past a kitchen area by several hundred feet to an outdoor area with a freshly killed deer. Needles to say: Twinkies were out of the question.  
  
+ + + +   
  
"Goddamn Hell."  
  
Those words pretty well summed up all of Faith's accomplishments via the internet. From what seemed to be divine intervention she'd somehow intercepted an E-mail from the "GWnet" whatever that was. And unfortunately that's about as far as she got.  
  
The E-mail itself made references to the possible return of a company named Pentex. Apparently the very same Pentex that Xander had been working for. She was guessing the company was strictly black hat since the guy in the mail sounded kind of panicked.  
  
Finally giving up, she picked up the phone she kept near her computer and made a call to Willow. "Hey, Wills, listen, I got this problem trying to get into something called the GWnet...what d'ya mean you've been trying for years? Uh huh. You never got the urge to try harder than that? Uh huh. Uh huh. I know you Willow, didn't you ever try to crack that thing open with some cyber-magic: just because you could? Uh huh. Uh huh. Okay. Tell Kenny I said hi."  
  
Willow wasn't going to be any help, and if the witch couldn't do it, she didn't have a chance in hell. Time to revise her opinion:  
  
"Goddamn Fucking Hell."  
  
So what does she know? For one thing when Xander woke up he probably wasn't happy with being tranq'ed. Another was that there was another group in opposition to Pentex (maybe those Lupine things G-man was talking about) that Xander may well have jumped ship too. If the other group were Lupines Xander might be in good hands.  
  
Or he might be being brain-washed by an isolated society of zealots.   
  
+ + + +   
  
The next Afternoon found Xander and Albrecht walking through the forest. On all fours.  
  
Used to walking around as wolf Albrecht moved the same way he did in any other form. The point of this exercise was to help Xander get used to moving around in wolf-form. As he stumbled along as best he could Albrecht spoke to him of his sacred duty as a Garou. And of the reason he had to do it in the first place.  
  
"Long before history began there was Gaia, the Earth-mother. Giver of Life. And under her she created three powerful Celestines: the spirits of the Triat. These were the Wyld, the great turtle. Chaos embodied but also the force that made new forms of life possible. The Weaver, the great spider. She was Order first and foremost and gave structure to the world. Then came the Wyrm, the mighty serpent. He was the force of balance and entropy of reality."   
  
"For a time, it was good. The Wyld poured forth it's creative energies and the Weaver wove them into the pattern web. The Wyrm used destruction and alteration to keep the strands of the web healthy. Then something happened. The weaver attained greater awareness, and surveyed all it's work. And could see no point or meaning to it's life, or even it's existence."  
  
"In short, the Weaver went insane."  
  
"It begun to weave it's webs at a lunatic pace and soon the Wyrm, who had used destruction and alteration to balance reality, had only time enough to destroy. Until eventually he too was caught in the web. As he struggled and thrashed to free himself he grew ever more enmeshed in the web. Eventually he too went mad. Unlike the Weaver however, the Wyrm's aspect changed. No longer balance, the Wyrm became a source of corruption. Every foul urge and impure thought creates a physical and spiritual manifestation of destruction and decay.  
  
Now the Weaver's stagnant order encroaches on the wild places as the Wyrm tries constantly to drag the whole of reality down into oblivion. Of the Triat only the Wyld remains true to the purpose Gaia set for it, and with so many wounds opening from the struggle, Gaia needed Champions. Us."  
  
Xander took this all in passively as he carefully watched his lupine fore paws tread the ground. At the end he came to a stop and stood uncertainly on unfamiliar limbs. "Bullshit."  
  
"What?"  
  
"How do you know all that's true: your history? I've seen so many conflicting theories about the beginning in so many demon cultures it's almost funny."  
  
"I have something to show you that will convince you, but how do you know about the demon cultures?"  
  
"Please. I've been hunting Demons since I was fifteen."  
  
Albrecht stopped cold in his tracks. Xander looked to be about twenty seven and if he had been hunting demons for twelve years it would mean a great deal more experience in combat. But his experience coupled with his late change and status as a lost cub would make other tribes and septs suspicious. "No matter what happens you must never tell the another Garou that until you have made a reputation for yourself."  
  
"What does that have to do with any-"  
  
"Don't tell anyone Cub or I swear I'll kick your ass up and down the whole sept!" Albrecht had learned very quickly that the way to Xander's heart was the ability to beat him senseless. It didn't matter whether you were trying to befriend or seduce him: take him down. As it happened Xander nearly tripped in his wolf-form while trying to use a forepaw to give the older wolf a rude hand gesture. But he had apparently submitted to his king's authority.  
  
+ + + +   
  
After nearly one mile of traveling through the forest they arrived in a small clearing. In the center of the clearing a woman with raven hair in her late thirties knelt atop a pile of rocks. For the first time since that first terrible night Xander welcomed the change. As he tensed to change (still a foreign sensation in the four-legged Lupus form) Albrecht looked down at him. "What do you think your doing?"  
  
"Damn..." Xander thought as he stumbled along beside the now upright walking King when the woman waved them over.   
  
"Afternoon, Jonas." she said stepping off her stone perch. "This him?"  
  
"Aye. Be careful though he bruises easily. Well, at least his pride does..."  
  
"Hush, he's probably got enough problems if you need to get my help with this."  
  
Sitting on his haunches Xander tried to interject but found out that "Hey! I'm standing right here!" translated into various growls and yaps. At least it called attention to himself and the woman turned her gaze down on him.  
  
"What are you still doing in wolf-form? Change into Homid if you want to talk." Grumbling indignantly Xander obliged.  
  
"I thought he should get used to walking on all fours." Albrecht supplied  
  
The woman nodded and looked Xander up and down appraisingly "I'm Mari Cabrah of the Black Furies tribe. Though I don't think that means anything to you."  
  
"Notta thing."   
  
"Thought so, but we won't get into tribes just yet. We have something a little more advanced to deal with with today."  
  
"Wait a second. Advanced? Shouldn't I just start small?" Xander said with a note of panic starting in his voice.  
  
"Relax. Mari's one of my packmates, so she'll take care of you, and we don't have much time to hold your hand." Albrecht tried his best to allay Xander's fears, but it was Mari herself who got things off the ground.  
  
"Albrecht's right Xander, you've lost far too much time already. Now come with me..." Mari was insistent as she hooked one of Xander's arms and dragged him further into the forest. As soon as they were gone Albrecht began the long walk back to the sept.   
  
They traveled further into the forest (thankfully on two feet) until arriving at a small lake. At which point Mari bid Xander to stare at his reflection in the water. "I want you to stare into the reflection, not at the sky or trees, at yourself. Especially your eyes. Now stop focusing. Almost across now, just keep on. And... there you go."  
  
Xander looked around to see himself in the same alternate world he had been in before being sucked through the portal while fleeing the city. Except there weren't any spiders or webs. He mentioned this to Mari. She shrugged and said: "Didn't Albrecht tell you about the Triat? The weaver is the strongest in the cities."  
  
"...Okay, point taken. But I just learned that stuff an hour or two ago."  
  
"Whatever helps you feel nice and big and confident once I'm not in sight." She said with a grin. She could tell why Albrecht had latched on to him. The similarities between the two went a tad deeper than missing eyes, she'd at first feared that Albrecht was beginning to lapse into Harano, the madness so common to his tribe. Now she was sure that Albrecht had just found a capable apprentice, perhaps the son he never had to mentor. "This is the Umbra, which someone must have already told you about if you know about the spiders. Here we may travel great distances, ambush our enemies in the physical world, and converse with spirits."  
  
"So... I take it we don't need to look in to a mirror or something every time we shift? That would make it a lot less useful."  
  
"Right. What a Garou is predisposed to do is decided based on what moon it's born under, it's 'auspice', and some of those have a harder time crossing over and I don't know what kind you are. So the only reason I led you to this lake is that any 'mirrors and stuff' makes it easier to cross-over."  
  
"I'm not sure whether I should feel grateful or insulted, so I think I'll go with 'Whatever.'"  
  
Mari opened her mouth. Then shut it. Then opened it again. "Hey! Watch it! Me and Albrecht might be a little lenient from special circumstances, but other Elders won't. Your still a cub, we don't even know what auspice you are, and a strange cub at that. Watch your mouth. It'll get you into a lot of trouble."  
  
Xander regarded her for a moment before waving his hands in mock surrender. Screw him then. Let him learn the hard way if he didn't want to take any advice. "Go explore around here and see if you can find any spirits, but stay close, I'm going to do a ritual and I need you around for it. And for gaia's sake don't piss anything off."  
  
+ + + +   
  
For nearly fifteen minutes afterward Xander prowled the wooded area. He'd decided to take to wolf-form and it was beginning to feel like less of a chore. Mari had told him not to leave while she worked her magic. He had briefly considered taking off anyway. Now was a good chance, but Xander elected to stay.  
  
These people... HIS people honestly wanted to teach him what he was and help deal, so maybe it was a good idea to stick around at least a little while longer. After all, he wasn't going to learn any of this stuff on his own was he? Only other chance he might have was the voice that had been talking in his head a few days ago, and he could definitely due without *that*.  
  
Everything seemed more vivid and real now that he'd changed, it had been barely noticeable in homid form and he had been concentrating on not stumbling too much when he first took this form to appreciate it. At the moment Xander was enthralled by all the sensations he could take in (especially smell).  
  
When Xander bent his head down to snuffle at a rose a noise roused him and he spun about. A gray-wolf sat five feet before him. It regarded him with solemn interest. Xander looked left and right before settling his gaze on the wolf again. It was freaking unsettling how easily it crept up on him. Tired of waiting to see what it would do he thought he might as well try to talk to it.  
  
"So... Kill any good deer lately?" The wolf just kept staring at him. "Right that was stupid... Sorry."  
  
"Yes," the wolf said in stunted English "very stupid."  
  
"Huh? What the... Oh yeah, Garou."  
  
"No." was all the wolf said, and it did not elaborate further.  
  
"So what are you?" In response the wolf looked at him mildly and pawed at the ground before settling in the snow. "Hey! I'm talking to you! Answer me you-" Xander cut himself off abruptly when he realized that he was snarling and growling at the wolf. He had a moment to look ashamed before the wolf spoke up.  
  
"Be calm. Your Rage and Hatred are a taint, but a part of you. Of all Garou. A weapon. But see that you control it, and that it does not control you." Xander sat on his hind quarters and considered this thoughtfully.  
  
A twig snapped and his head shot up in time to see the wolf streak at him. It lunged to his side curiously enough. As it streaked by the wolf brushed him with his paw. He flew many feet from his opponent despite the soft touch.  
  
As he struck a tree Xander recognized the hint of magic in the air. He'd never have noticed it before but now his senses were far keener now. Willow's magic would have an ordered and almost stagnant smell. This was a raw smell. Fresh and primal. 'This must be what werewolf magic is like.'   
  
A second realization hit him. The corrupted wolf he'd taken the silver sword from had used a move just like that to knock Xander on his ass. He recovered as quickly as he could in an unaccustomed form and faced his attacker. But now the wolf stood regarding him mildly again."Return when you know yourself," it said cryptically "And I shall show you something of how that is done."   
  
Before the very confused Garou could respond Mari stepped from the tree-line in her human form. Seeing her Xander turned his head back to the wolf to find himself staring at bare earth.  
  
"Come on Xander, I've finished the ritual summoning and a spirit that can tell us your auspice is on it's way."  
  
"Wait a second... I think I just met it. A wolf? Sent to kick my ass?"  
  
"No I summoned a one called a kin fetch. ...Guess what it does."  
  
"And this thing doesn't mind being called a 'kin fetch.'"  
  
"It is what it is. A wolf spirit won't mind being called wolf."  
  
+ + + +   
  
While Xander was busy getting put in his place by a wolf spirit Faith sauntered into a gun shop called "the Silver Bullet." Now that was ironic once she had learned about the lupines weakness to silver. Xander had been coming here for a month before he disappeared. She'd been coming here for a few days afterwards, since she'd found Xander's idea for the guns to work pretty well.  
  
She'd even befriended the hoary old man who ran the place. Matthew Radley had a Giles-esque feel to him, with maybe a little bit of the G-man's bad side too. Had a similar build too, kind of rugged like a blacksmith, only with the thinning gray hair of an old man. Every time she came here he was hunched over some nasty thing that killed and from the way he worked with them she figured he probably had used some of them himself.   
  
The fact that most of the information she got on the lupines came from Radley was not lost on her.   
  
Today he was tinkering with a large bore hunting rifle that lay disassembled on the counter behind a grate. He looked up and nodded as she walked and then went back to his work. "What are working on now Radley?" This had become a little bit of a dance for them over the last few days. She'd pretend to be interested in his work or buy some ammo before asking him anything about the lupines.   
  
"Just a little beauty some fool brought into sell. His loss. ... Ya know, I've been keeping my ear to the ground and I picked up a little something."   
  
This was a change, no beating around the bush and no gun-talk. "Like what?" was all she said not wanting to let this opportunity pass by.  
  
"Hold on a moment." He reached under the counter and brought out a box of bullets and a bundled up rag. "The bullets are silver, and here's a pretty thing," He unwrapped the bundle and lifted it in his hand: a small hunting knife in it's case. "This one cost a penny or two." He handed it to Faith. She drew to inspect the blade. Silver.  
  
"How much do I owe you?"  
  
"For these? Call it a gift. You're going to need if you go head to head with any wolves. And besides Xander's good business. Hope you find him."  
  
+ + + +   
  
Mari and Xander sat at the edge of the lake. The wolf had somewhat unsettled Xander and he didn't want to talk anymore. (Although he hadn't been curious about so many things since high school.) In the contemplative silence Xander had been turning several things over in his mind. The wolf. The deformed and corrupted Garou warrior, Albrecht, but most of all the voice in his head. He'd briefly wondered whether or not the voice *was* Albrecht, but he'd discarded that notion rather quickly. The more he thought about, the more and more the wolf spirit and the voice seemed to be similar. Not the same spirit obviously but a spirit nonetheless. And from what Mari said about rituals he could summon a spirit.  
  
And then he'd get his answers.  
  
As he began to devise a plan Mari perked up. "It's almost here." The kin fetch she'd summoned was supposed to have some information on him. Apparently his long lost people decided what you were going to be doing for the rest of your life by what phase of the moon you were born under. Strange.  
  
He waited a few more minutes, then a sparrow flew into the valley and perched on a branch in front of them. Mari didn't waste any time. "What can you tell me about this cub?"  
  
"Cub?" the sparrow chirped "Doesn't look like a cub..."  
  
"Yeah well he was a late change. And you were supposed to be guarding over him."  
  
"Whoa-Whoa, wait a second. You mean to tell me that my Spirit guardian was a freaking sparrow? Christ no wonder I was beat up so much as a kid."  
  
"He doesn't actually guard anything..." Mari tried to say  
  
"Wait I know this one." the kin fetch/sparrow replied "Big dumb Ahroun from many years ago. Hasn't changed yet, tries to fight vampires anyway. Very brave. Very dumb. Very stressful for me." And with that the little spirit flew away in a huff.  
  
"What the hell is Ahroun?"  
  
"It means you were born under the Full Moon. The Ahroun's are the warrior auspice of the Nation."  
  
"Well hell... I could have told you THAT..."  
  
[A/N: (Gasp!) He turned out to be a warrior! Uh, nevermind not that strange.] 


	8. Garou Nation: Sept of the Wailing Glade

Title: Claws & Chaos  
  
Author: Heathen92  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. Kinda wish I did.  
  
Feedback: I need it, I crave it! Feed my addiction.  
  
[A/N: I haven't updated in awhile due to some life-stuff and a fried com. I also read over the first few chapters and cringed so expect some chapter reposts with some better grammer.]  
  
There was a time when I thought having some 'cool powers' would be the best thing to happen to me. I knew it flat-out after I met Buffy.  
  
Now though? I know for a fact that it sucks.  
  
Take my current situation for example: I don't really want to kill these guys... But I'm going to. I have to.  
  
Well that's about as vague and mysterious as all the crap I used to hate from the dead-boys. Maybe I should back up a bit. Or maybe I should just go with what I said first. Maybe it's the supernatural thing...  
  
Nah. I'm not supernatural, I'm very natural.  
  
Two months ago I met Faith again after five years. It didn't go too well. A few days later I took a job with a very bad crowd. That didn't go well either. Somewhere in between those two points I changed for the first time. After escaping I hooked up with a group of my long lost people, and in hindsight that ended very, very, badly.  
  
See what I mean? Every since I got my powers things have been going bad. And... That's too vague. Again. I wonder if I can blame Spike and Angel for that too. I'm going to anyway.  
  
For the last five weeks I've been in: "the North Country Protectorate, under the care and tutelage of King Albrecht and his packmates; Evan Heals-the-Past and Mari Cabrah." Which will pretty much get me into any Garou sept in North America.  
  
I've a lot to learn. Evan is a Philodox, a peace keeper, and has been teaching me all about the rest of the Garou Nation, all the tribes and the way life in general works for my kind. Mari is a Theurge, a shaman, so she's the best one teach me about the umbra and dealing with spirits. And the King himself? He's Ahroun, warrior-born like I am, and the best around to teach me how to fight.  
  
The fact that all this was determined by the phase of the moon when we were born under seemed kind of, well... laugh out loud hilarious at first. But it began to make sense. After my change the warrior part of me seems a lot easier to indulge.  
  
I'm here in the Sept of the Wailing Glade because Albrecht figured they were coddling me. Then he smacked me down when I told him it was old news. Can't have me getting very uppity or something. Afterwards he told me that I had to travel to a place in rural Michigan to reinforce a sept under attack. This isn't even my rite of passage. I'm still just a cub to the Nation, and after this I'm still gonna be a cub.  
  
That sucks. Ass.  
  
Which brings me to my current situation. You know. The one that makes me think having powers sucks.  
  
Wyrm tainted troopers have attacked our shrine in the sept. We were going on a run to pump ourselves up for an offensive when one of ours caught a scent and we high tailed it back to find commandos and even a few Black Spirals Dancers.  
  
Right now I'm in the middle of a group of five commandos with my back nearly up against the wall of the shrine. A sixth was planting bombs on our shrine, but it was on him I landed when I pounced over here. No more problems there. Just one problem.  
  
These guys are human. Fomori technically. Most of them have given themselves over to the wyrm for power at the small price of their soul. I also know that some get tricked into it. So I'm a little ambivilant as I tear them to pieces.  
  
It's almost instinct as I bring them down. My claws move through gaps in their armor like butter, without thinking I simply rip the final one in half. When my rage subsides I'll wonder if one of them was tricked, if one of them had an untainted family. Albrecht's told me I'll get used to it. Don't know if I want to. Not really sure that I have a choice.  
  
Only one other warrior from North Country came with me. The Alpha of the Wailing Glade would have been pissed if he'd asked for help in the first place. Potential insult turned out to be an unexpected boon. The one they sent with me is a Get of Fenris named Toby Runs-like-Hell. They only sent him along to be rid of him for a week.  
  
A word about Runs-like-Hell. He isn't a coward, which is what I first thought. He's actually one of the bravest of our kind I've ever met. Just a different kind of brave. He doesn't hate the wyrm any more than the rest of us or fight better than the average werewolf, he's the most legendary prankster in the whole damn nation. The deed-name Run-like-Hell comes from what he did after he shaved a Garou sleeping in wolf-form or used the spirit gift 'open-seal' on Albrecht's fly during a meeting. I love the guy.  
  
The battle is over now. About an hour afterwards Black Rindle, the alpha of this area asks my company in the spirit world. I cross over to see him in his black furred man-wolf form next to the caern's spirit guardian. The spirit was a huge wolf that stand's taller at the shoulder than Black Rindle himself. It's pelt isn't a solid color or mottled with any hue. Instead it has patches of fur in many different shades. Each one looks like it came from a different wolf, all of them knit together like a patch work quilt. There's meaning in that. Mari taught me that all things in the umbra and concerning spirits has a meaning. The wolf's hide is a symbol for something, but it hasn't been long enough since my first change for me to figure it out.  
  
The wolf cocks it's head at me. He introduces himself as Menegwho and saunters forward to look closer. He leans forward and licks my shoulder where a commando shot me with a silver bullet. He licks my chest where one of the Dancers slashed me. As he does the pain fades and as I look down I can see that the wounds are gone. A moment later he licks my claws and the blood of the men leaves them.  
  
"You are cub no longer. Your Rite of Passage is passed." Menegwho says with serene calm.  
  
"Afraid not. I haven't even begun." I'm calm too. I think it's an aura Menegwho puts out. Or maybe I just have a penchant for trusting the one who licks my wounds.  
  
"Your Rite of Passage is passed. Albrecht will see it so." And that's that. He turns and leaves me with Black Rindle. Rindle has heard what I did at the shrine and invites me over to a local bar for drinks. And when he did it he didn't call me cub like every Garou I meet.  
  
Maybe being a werewolf isn't so bad after all.

end scene one  
  
Two months ago Xander Harris came back into my life. Actually I just saw him again three times after five years but it's thrown my life out of routine.  
  
I saw him for only a few hours at a time at most. Then he was captured by the men he was working for: Pentex. Pentex is a bad element and Xander should know better. Some would leave him to deal with his own damn mistakes. Then again he wouldn't and didn't do that to my sorry ass.  
  
So for the last five weeks I've been harassing Pentex. Mostly small stuff. Steal a shipment of their stuff here. Break up a drug deal there. Blow up one of their secret underground labs... that last one was fun.  
  
Radley gave me a new toy to play with. A silver dagger. He gave it for free which is a bit odd. I'm beginning to think he's got a bit of an ulterior motive as far as the 'Lupines' go. Then again he's always got some new way to screw with Pentex so I guess we're on the same side.  
  
Tonight I was just watching their Jersey Headquarters sitting on a roof across the street. I think they figured out who I am, because I can feel some guy coming up behind me. He's no vamp. He's something else.  
  
I pretend I don't know he's coming as I rise and head for the stairs. I deserve an Emmy for that kind of acting 'cause this guy smells like... something I don't even want to know. I barely hear him as I head down metal steps. It reminds me of the time Oz got out and I had to chase him down. Oz didn't make a sound. All of a sudden I know what's behind me.  
  
God knows the thing can probably track me home with just it's nose. I go into an alley and pretend I feel like a smoke. Sure enough he comes into the alley just a minute after me. He growls and changes into the huge werewolf I saw so many nights ago.  
  
No. This one's different, and that's a comfort. The fur on the things hide is greasy and matted plus it's shorter than Xander was. At the most it is seven feet. It lunges at me and I decide not to actually go toe- to-toe with it. It might be a little weaker than I am but I don't have claws.  
  
Huh. The thing is dumber than the Xander-wolf was too. It just keeps slashing away without even trying to improvise. No way is it ever gonna hit me at this rate. I duck under both it claws and they hit the alley's brick wall. I roll out from under it's stamping feet (which have claws that are just as deadly) and I see why it was using it's feet. The things hands are stuck in the wall. I almost want to laugh at the thing struggling to get out. Instead I take the silver dagger and stab it in the back of its neck just below the skull.  
  
I'm thinking of calling it a night.

end scene two

I'm an artist. I come from a whole clan of artists.  
  
The woman's eyes are wide and shocked. Such disregard. I'm unappreciated in my own time. I have a glass of blood before the next step. Soul singer. Excellent. I offer some to my guest and she just whimpers. Bitch. Reject my hospitality, will you?  
  
I'm unsatisfied with the lips so I get started on removing them. This will be a masterpiece soon, but for now it is only so much clay. Before I even get the scalpel out for it the phone rings. Pity. I excuse myself and go into the parlor to answer it. It is Andrew Varden, another of my kin. I ask what exactly he thinks is worth interrupting me.  
  
"I have some information on a mortal boy you might be interested in. His name is-"  
  
I cut him off. I explain that I care not a whit for any mortal save one at the moment. One that I was busy with when he interrupted me. Which he should very well know. One as young as he is cannot afford to make such mistakes with one of my age. It is unhealthy.  
  
"But his name is Alexander Harris."  
  
That gives me pause. I ask Varden for specifics.  
  
"He used to work with the caitiff Angel from the dead Aurelis clan. And later William the Bloody of the same."  
  
I know he wants something for this. I ask him and he requests something appropriately petty, but I agree to it. He tells me that Xander was last seen in New Jersey, and that he is now Lupine. I am overjoyed!  
  
Varden is young and his thoughts are clouded by affection. His daughter was a young girl when he turned. He followed his lineage with care through his short unlife. In return, he wanted his granddaughter released. Considering his news, I dig in an old chest and remove a silver dagger. It is very large and would be clumsy in the hands of a human. The blade itself has several indecipherable runes engraved upon it. I like this dagger. I like it a lot. I took it from the first Lupine I killed.  
  
I stroll over to the woman, she starts at my presence. I stroke her hair and shush her. I croon that it will all be fine now. That it's all over. The blade is not for her, I say. I didn't lie to her once tonight, and she closes her eyes in relief. I keep my promise to her. The blade isn't for her. A deft twist of the neck and she is dead. Her troubles are over.  
  
I also kept my promise with Varden as well. His Granddaughter was just released. My manservant will inform him of this and bring the woman's body as proof.  
  
I am an artist, and I just abandoned a canvas for his news. But I remember Xander. I remember how much fun he was before he disappeared. Varden's kin was a commission. Xander will be a masterwork.  
  
Most mortals would call me a monster, as I drink blood. They are prejudiced fools.  
  
All mortals would call me a monster, for my art. They prove to me that the mortal education system has not yet fallen as far as my clanmates would have me believe.  
  
A scant few beings would call me Enver Forseti. Monster extraordinaire.

end scene three

Toby Runs-like-Hell and I join Black Rindle at Murphy's Tavern, a small little dive that only looks about large enough to fit about twenty people. A petite black woman scrubs the bar as we enter and smiles at Rindle briefly before she sees us. Her eyes narrow in concentration as she looks at me and Toby. She gets a little less friendly afterwards. Whatever. It's not time for diplomacy. It's time for drinking.  
  
Rindle gets a quick peck on the cheek from the woman as he sits. Toby presents his cheek for a moment before Rindle smacks him down to the floor. Bravest man I ever knew. The woman gives us a flat stare, and even flatter booze. In his man form I can see easily the hump on Black Rindle's back. He's a metis, one of the pariahs. It's impressive that he can hold onto his station.  
  
Runs-like-Hell gets tired of the cheap booze. He's got a bottle of the really good stuff up to his lips. I'm pretty certain he stole it. Good man. He doesn't want to share so Rindle and I wrestle him to the ground. We're both Ahroun and he's a Ragabash (a trickster) so it's a short struggle before we got it. Sour Mash whiskey. The bastard tricked us. He and the girl are laughing their asses off. She was in on it too.  
  
Rindle playfully grabs the girl around the waist and they have a tiny little match of their own. Can't tell if their fighting or playing. Maybe it's because I'm concentrating on keeping that slippery bastard Toby in a head lock. It's then that the voice comes back, screaming in my head.  
  
/Get home! As quick as you can!  
  
I turn around and let Toby fall to the ground in a heap. Before I get a chance to respond the voice speaks up again.  
  
/No questions! Go!  
  
Oddly enough considering what I was planning to do just a few weeks ago, I don't question. I change into the caveman form and grab Runs-like- Hell by the belt. I haul him along as I head to our car. A beat up blue ford that's almost as old as I am. I toss him into the back seat and pause only long enough to explain why I have to leave to Black Rindle, who's coming out now. When I get behind the wheel I think maybe I took a little longer in explaining the situation than I thought: Toby's in the front now and is holding up a six-pack. I have no idea how he gets around to stealing so much when he's obviously drunker than I am.  
  
Good man.

End scene four

I'm having another dream. An important one. I wonder if Buffy could figure out whether or not a dream was prophetic or not during the dream. Probably not. For the first few minutes I don't even think it's a dream. I 'wake up' to commandos breaking down my door. I flee.  
  
I run and again I seem to run forever. I cross deserts and plains, mountains and tundra. And the whole time greasy coated wolves nip at my heels.  
  
I finally come to a stop at the edge of a cliff. I feel a sharp pain in my shoulder and leg and I stumble closer to the drop. I look over and can't see the bottom. A bird cries overhead as I finally fall. I twist in the air and fall backward. A falcon swoops down. I shout and cover my face as it's talons descend.  
  
No pain comes. The bird catches me and flies to New Jersey, and finally to my own bedroom.  
  
That's when I woke up.  
  
Someone's trying to tell me something. I think: Message received. Five by five.

end scene five

I'm pretty sure something heavy is going down to get Xander's whities in this big a wad. I'm still kinda pissed off anyway. I mean come on, one minute: Enjoying drunken debauchery with some real. Prime. Stolen liquor. The next minute: Xander's freaking out and hauling me to the piece of crap he calls a car. At least I picked up a little something for the road. Screw him if he wants some. He can steal- er, buy his own.  
  
I was sent here on a little "mission" of my own. From the king himself. That's almost as funny as some of the stuff I've pulled over the years. Sending another Garou along just to see what he'll do. Everyone says that Albrecht isn't crazy like the rest of the Silver Fangs. They lied.  
  
I like the cub. Which is an odd thing for me to say since he's older than I am. He's a late changer 'cause twenty-nine is really goddamn late to still be a cub. Late bloomer if there ever was one. Anyway I think he's the first Ahroun I've ever met with a sense of humor. I'm thinking of giving him the deed name "Scarfs-the-Twinkie."  
  
My first pack didn't turn out to well. I was just a kid when we came to North Country for the King's summons during the near-apocalypse in 2003. Then blam: No pack, no sept, and my tribe leaves the Nation. Holy hell. I thought the Silver Fangs and the Shadow Lords had sticks rammed up their asses. All of a sudden my fellow Get of Fenris are saying: "the rest of the Nation has failed. We must make up for past mistakes" and they go get buddy-buddy with the other shapechanger breeds like the Stargazers. I haven't gotten into another pack since.  
  
I'm lucky for Mari. She gave me a home in North Country, I think she has a soft spot for kids and at the time I was still just a teen. I think my big problem with forming a new pack is my relentless pranking. That tends to put a damper on things. Getting fixed up by Albrecht like this isn't that bad.  
  
As I always say: "If at first I don't succeed... the wife won't let me forget. Or at least my wife won't."


	9. Tangent: Tracking the Bane

Title: Claws & Chaos  
  
Author: Heathen92  
  
Archive: Just tell me where to visit.  
  
Reviews: Let's face it, I'm gonna finish this thing no matter what happens. But reviews help the process along so, yes please. More the Merrier.  
  
Disclaimer: It's completely unfair, but Xander is the property of Joss and Mutant enemy, Werewolf and Runs-like-Hell belongs to White Wolf, and the Creeper, Trish, and Darry belong to some movie house.  
  
[A/N: This will be a bit of a departure from the way the series has gone so far. I wanted to do a 'story within a story' as well as introduce a new way of changing scenes. RL is still kinda getting in the way, but I guess I just gotta keep on truckin'...]  
  
- - - -  
Xander's Car; Traveling South-by-Southwest on an abandoned Highway  
- - - -   
  
A blue ford fairmont hurtles down a parched stretch of highway. The road is broken by weeds in some places, simply crumbling into dust in others. It suited the car, a '78 model, making it nearly thirty years old. In addition the previous owner had been a poor good-for-nothing street punk. An ugly good-for-nothing street punk who was forced to pay for his dates and didn't believe in maintenance.  
  
The driver (and current owner) of the car was a big, grizzled looking man with an eye-patch, looking all of his twenty-nine years and then some. His skin underneath his blue jeans, gray shirt, and brown jacket had grown a healthy tan from years on the road. His face had lines bisecting in between his eyebrows from spending the last few years wrestling with a deep seated anger. He liked the car just fine, he'd liberated it from a vampire on one of his "dates" and decided to keep it around. The man was nostalgic that way. From his rough appearance you would assume him to be a lonely drifter or one of the few remaining outlaws.  
  
You certainly would never guess that he was of noble lineage.  
  
His companion was a somewhat smaller and younger man. Dirty blonde hair and blue eyes hinted at a german heritage while his own tan (though not as deep as the driver's) told the tale of a lifetime in the States. This one was only twenty-three, and his clothes reflected this: tennis shoes, black jeans, and a white shirt with a decal of a small cartoon boy engaged in an inappropriate act with his stuffed tiger. His face had lines as well. But the smaller man's lines were laugh lines. He had had his share of tragedy but had coped well. From his appearance you wouldn't understand why he would be paired with the driver.  
  
You also wouldn't guess that he came from a family of hard-nosed warriors.  
  
The pair drove on in relative silence, for though the younger one loved to joke and prattle, he was suffering from the beginnings of a severe hangover. The driver was a talker himself, but he was deep in thought.   
  
Hangover or no hangover: the younger one got bored. "Xander… hey, man… I think I might of forgot with all the jackhammers in my head, but I'd be willing to bet you didn't tell me why we went tear assing out of Rindle's place like that."  
  
Xander glanced over at his passenger. Before responding he reached over into the glove box and removed a bottle of water and a baggie full of Advil. He was evidently a regular drinker as well, he just hadn't had the time to get drunk himself. "There's this spirit talking inside my head, has been off and on since my first change. Last night he was 'on.' I don't like him and as soon as I figure out how I'm going to track him down, but he hasn't steered me wrong yet, Toby."  
  
Toby (Runs-like-Hell for those in the know) nodded at this but didn't leave well enough alone. "So a spirit strong enough to do telepathy just said 'jump?' And we're gonna do it? Crap, we're screwed." After speaking Runs-like-Hell laid his head against the window and closed his eyes. Xander thumped Toby's chest and then tapped on the water.  
  
"Take your meds… And the guy 'hasn't steered me wrong yet' which means that he hasn't gotten me killed. So quit whining. And pass me a Twinkie."  
  
Runs-like-Hell snorted but obliged on both meds and Twinkie. As Xander chewed on his twinkie (the ones he wasn't aloud to bring into his new home) he crinkled his nose in disgust. "Wyrm taint."  
  
"Well, yeah." Runs-like-Hell said "That's why we don't like to have Twinkies in the Caern."  
  
"Not the Twinkie. Shut up for a second."  
  
Noting that Xander was serious about the taint, Runs-like-Hell actually did shut up. His companion rolled down the window and slowed the car to a crawl. Taking several cautious sniffs of the area Xander looked up sharply, a low growl escaping his throat. "I'm sure now. It's getting stronger."  
  
They drove in silence again for the next few minutes. Every thirty seconds or so Xander would take another sniff of the area. For his part, Runs-like-Hell sat-up straight and tried his best to clear his mind.  
  
Within ten minutes Xander pulled over near the side of the road. Exiting the vehicle Xander dropped to all fours and became a wolf, all the better to track his quarry. Wordlessly he and Toby trudged down the road. Anyone who passed down the highway would see a young teen taking his poor one-eyed dog out for a walk. No one passed.  
  
After half a mile Xander cast about for the scent and quickened his pace, forcing Toby to veer off and jog along in a crouch among the high grass beside the highway so he wouldn't be noticed. They came at last to a roadside inlet in the grass. A thin dirt road led to a cathedral with various bits of junk and debris strewn around it. More interestingly a young brunette woman stood in front of sewer pipe holding on to a pair of kicking sneakers, presumably attached to the legs of a boy about her age.   
  
Xander rose and was a man again. He took one last sniff before turning to nod at Toby. Runs-like-Hell pointed with his chin at the girl, but Xander shook his head as if to say 'Their only crime is being to stupid or brave for their own good.' While they were gesturing the boy dropped down into the pipe and the girl screamed. The two men exchanged a look before jogging over to the pipe.   
  
The girl was yelling at the boy in the hole when she noticed them for the first time. Predictably enough she screamed again.  
  
- - - -   
Patricia (Trish) Jenner; The Cathedral  
- - - -   
  
Oh Crap! I can't believe that just happened. Wonderful job Trish, you've now made your brother eat mud, glued him to a toilet-seat, and just now you dropped him into a serial-killer's well/Pipe thing. You should be on the cover of Time. You yell down at him to see if he's okay, of course not, but his moans tell me he's alive. A second later he reassures me more by getting up and yelling up: 'Good job, you Trish always come through in a clutch."  
  
"Hey!" I yell down "There were rats coming at my face!"  
  
He yells back "There were rats coming at me too, Trish!"  
  
I'm about to holler about his kicking when I hear a foot step behind me. I'm already screaming and backing away as I turn around expecting to see the serial killer. I backed up too much and now I'm falling into the pipe. I only fall about a foot before I feel a callused hand on my leg. I scream again but it dies in my throat as I see who it actually is.   
  
It's not a serial killer. Or at least not the serial killer. This guy has a pretty blank expression on his face even though he's holding me up with one hand. Even with a poker face the guy seems a little pissed off. Then again maybe it's just that the patch over his left eye. He hauls me out and I can see another man here. He doesn't look as mean as his buddy, though.  
  
The one-eyed guy asks me what me and Darry are doing out here. After that shock I'm not giving him a straight answer. I demand to know what the hell he was doing behind me. His buddy just says we had a bad feeling and came down to check it out. I don't buy it. But I also think they might get royally pissed if I don't accept it. I'm not sure what they'd do then.  
  
So I tell them the whole story. That we were road-raged by this creepy armored car thing, I tell them how we saw the driver throwing blood stained sacks into this pipe before the freak got into his car and ran us off the road. And I tell them that Darry wanted to go back in case anyone was still alive. I think I said that all really fast because Darry's still yelling after I'm done.  
  
The old one with one eye nods at the younger one, and then he says something to make me feel a little better: "We believe you." then he walks past me and sniffs at the pipe. His nose crinkles up a little and he yells down to my brother.  
  
"Hey kid! Are you okay?"  
  
"No I do this kind of thing all the time! What the hell do you think?" My brother is a real charmer. The guy who grabbed me growls something under his breath and reaches behind his back under his coat. He fiddles around back there a moment before bringing out a small gun. And now the fear is back in full force. He check the safety, puts it in it's holster and brings a few flares out of his pocket.  
  
"Alright, just stand. I'm sending something down." Then, much to my relief, he lights a flare and tosses it down, then follows it with the gun, and finally the rest of the flare. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.   
  
He noticed. He looks at me for a moment and I can feel my skin crawl into goosebumps while he does, but he doesn't say anything. After a moment he grabs the top of the pipe with both hands and hops onto the lip. Before he can go down his partner speaks up.  
  
"Xander, what the hell do you think you're doing?"  
  
"Exactly what it looks like. Or would you rather the boy stay down there alone?" 'Xander' says.  
  
"Oh no question about that. I just want to know what you think you're doing going down."  
  
"Can you think of a better person? You?"  
  
"Actually, yeah. If what she says is true the guy's out here. Not down there. Which is where you're going."  
  
Xander considers this for a moment before hopping down from the pipe and steps to the side before gesturing to the pipe in invitation. So his partner goes down instead. But Xander is… I don't know. He seems dangerous. And angry. It may be a little selfish but I think I'd prefer it if the other one had stayed up here instead of him.  
  
These crows are beginning to get to me. They keep hanging around this psycho's church, their either just hanging around for the dead bodies to eat (eww), or they're actually trained by him.  
  
Xander reaches out and a crow lands on his hand, and now he looks even creepier. He offers it a little bit of bread-crust starts whispering to it. I don't even think he's speaking English… I have a sudden urge to jump in the hole myself.  
  
"You shouldn't be feeding those things." I say this without even realizing it. He looks up at me and half-grunts half-growls a "Whatever" right before the crow lunges at his face.  
  
- - - -  
The Cathedral; Xander Harris  
- - - -   
  
I can tell that the girl is on edge around me. I've heard of this kind of thing so I'm not too offended. Regular people are always uneasy around us, they can somehow sense the rage we all feel. They tend to fear us (especially full-moon warriors like me) even if we don't say or do anything. So I decide to go about my business hope she's too scared to speak up.   
  
I don't think these crows nest in a place like this naturally. Well maybe a church, okay, but no wild animal will hang around in a wyrm-tainted area without being compelled. I pull out a bit of bread and invoke one of the few techniques I learned from Mari Cabrah and not a spirit. I close my eyes and concentrate for a moment before extending my hand. One of the birds lands on it and its glassy black eyes regard me with love. It's a fake love though. The trick is I changed my scent in such a way too force it to love me. Not that I really want it to, just one whiff and I can tell that it's tainted. Makes my skin crawl.  
  
I softly grunt and growl out the language of my people and hope there's enough instinct left in the crow to understand me. I start with a somewhat warm greeting. I hoped right. The bird perks up surprised to actually communicate in it's own language with (what it thinks is) it's master. I ask it to remind me what it's doing here.  
  
"Guarding, master." It couldn't be that easy…  
  
"Ah, I remember now… but guarding what and why?"  
  
"The Cathedral master, the Cathedral of Flesh and Bone."  
  
That gives pause. I briefly consider going down and fetching Toby. Then I think that however traumatizing it might be for him and the boy, the killer is still up here.   
  
The girl just this moment to interrupt me. "You shouldn't be feeding those things." I turn my head to brush her off with a one word answer, and the crow snaps out of it. A black shape fills the vision of my remaining eye, and I can hear the crow cawing like it's never been this pissed off before.   
  
It's surprisingly sharp beak stabs me in the left eye socket. 'Five years too late, buddy.' I think and grab the crow blindly, not wanting to expose my other eye. A squeeze of my hand and the thing croaks it's last breath out. All of a sudden the rest of the birds are taking wing and flying away like a bat of freaking hell.   
  
I'm beginning to put two and two together here. I don't think these birds are guardians or anything. Even beyond the piss-poor job they're doing, these things are making a huge ruckus and most of them flew off. Flying in many different directions. Their freaking alarms. No man can train a murder of wild crows like this, not wyrm-tainted ones. That means a Bane, probably heading this way too. I run to the pipe and yell down: "Toby! Grab the kid and get the hell out of there, we're leaving!"  
  
- - - -  
Darius (Darry) Jenner, Toby Runs-like-Hell; The Cathedral of Flesh, Main Hall/Workshop  
- - - -   
  
Within a pit in the earth, Darry Jenner waited near the spot of light where he landed. He'd only been down there a minute and he heard voices up there. He'd been scared out of his mind thinking that someone got to Trish, then she yelled for him to stay put. Easy for her to say. She wasn't in some creep's basement. How freaking typical.  
  
He looked at the whole and saw this guy with an eye-patch. Around this time Darry began to suspect that the killer really was up there. The man called down a warning before dropping a lit flare, followed by a gun and a lot more flares. As soon as the lit flare landed Darry wished it hadn't.   
  
By the red light of the flare he could see beyond the front of the cave he was in. Now he could see a pile of blood stained sacks against the wall and one sitting alone on the floor. When the sack on the floor shifted it reminded Darry why he was in here in the first place. He took just three steps forward before he heard a sudden thud behind him. The boy whirled around and saw a blond man sitting on his ass in the beam of light.   
  
The man (Runs-like-Hell) looked the boy in the eyes. The boy looked back. At that point Toby summed up the situation. "Ow… I think I broke my ass."  
- - - -   
Darry Jenner; The Cathedral of Flesh, Main Hall/Workshop  
- - - -   
  
Now just who the hell is this? "Now just who the hell are you?" The blonde dude who just landed on his ass just kind of looks around before he decides it's time to answer. Toby. He begins to tell me a last name before he stops himself. Well I don't trust you either, asshole. Toby stops rubbing his broken ass long enough to get to his feet and dust himself off.   
  
"Okay buddy," Toby drawls as he picks up the gun "let's go find us a serial killer." Which is the most inappropriate thing he could have said in this situation. But he earns a little of that respect back: as his eyes find the human-sized sacks the grin drops from his face. For a split second we make eye-contact before he tosses me the gun. I ask him what he's gonna do. "I can take care of myself." is the only reply I get.   
  
I tip-toe over to the sack. Whatever's in it is definitely man-sized, and I think the sack is actually just a sheet wrapped and roped over to keep it hidden. When I get within a foot of the bundle an arm shoots out and grabs my foot. I scream and turn as white as the arm clutching my foot. I scream again when I feel Toby's hand grip my shoulder and yank me away. "Take your safety off. Let me handle him." I look at him like he's grown a second head for awhile before I remember that I have a gun in my hand.  
  
In a few seconds Toby has the head of the man exposed. The guy's scared shitless and looks like he's got pneumonia, but he's alive. So I was right in coming here. Assuming we can move him we just saved a life.  
  
But Toby grimaces. The guy tries to say something, but Toby quiets him. "Rest. We'll avenge you…" I ask him what the hell he means. Then I demand to know what the hell he means. Toby glances up at me and pulls the sheet away from the man's midsection. Oh god. "We can't save him." Staples keep the corpses midsection together. The scars are open and would be bleeding if there were still any blood. That's why he was so white…  
  
- - - -  
Toby Runs-like-Hell; The Cathedral of Flesh, Main Hall/Workshop  
- - - -   
  
I close the corpses eyes, not for my benefit, but for Darry's. He's gone about as white as the corpse. Not that I blame him. I'd probably about the same color if I weren't trying so hard to keep the anger down.  
  
All Werewolves have an inborn anger. It starts in when we're a child and usually spills over in our teens, then we change. It's the rage that fuels our transformation, and nothing pisses us off more than corruption and something pissing off nature.   
  
It's good that I came down here and not Xander. I am of the Ragabash auspice, Tricksters, and we tend to feel it less. Xander? He's Ahroun, a Warrior, and those guys feel it most of all. I'm having a little trouble here. I don't think it's the corpse either. That's nothing new. Something about this place. It reeks of corruption. Xander has a better nose for it than me and I can smell it. I think if he came down here he'd see the corpse, catch the scent, and then lose it. The man's got a bit of a temper. He'd probably change to the Crinos (Wolfman) form and tear this place apart. Probably the kid too.   
  
We move a little deeper into the cave and the smell gets stronger. I might need to either split from Darry or preferably get the hell out of here, the place is getting to me. We reach a table and on an impulse I light a flare. Weird tools dot the workman's bench.  
  
The smell is almost unbearable, even Darry's starting to notice. It's then I look up.   
  
I know where the smell is coming from now. Hundreds of bodies have been stuck to the ceiling and high walls. Christ. It's not just wyrm-taint… these things are almost mummified and they still stink. The kids hysterical. I think he sees someone he recognizes.   
  
Enough is enough. The flare is tossed away and I half drag and half carry Darry over to the pipe. "Come on," I say in most authoritative voice I can "we're leaving." In a strange coincidence Xander yells down the same thing a second or two later.  
  
- - - -   
Toby Runs-like-Hell; The Cathedral  
- - - -   
  
I climb out of that godforsaken pipe right behind Darry. His sister engulfs him in a hug that seems completely contrary to the variety of foul names she's calling him while she does it. Maybe not, considering the quaver in here voice and the paleness of his skin in the afternoon sun.  
  
I'm not in the mood to complain but I don't get anywhere near that treatment. Xander's in full business mode. Might have something to do with the beak sized hole in his eye patch. "What did you see?"   
  
When I tell him Trish pales a little herself and I can see Xander's right eye yellow and his upper-lip begin a snarl. I give his shoulder a squeeze and tell him to calm down. What I don't say is the last thing we need is for him to lose it.  
  
For only a minute Xander closes his eye and considers. Then he gives us our marching orders.   
  
First he asks the kids if they've ever used a gun before. Neither of them have. He pulls two bullets from his big .357, then without saying a word he tosses one at each of them. The girl catches hers, so he gives her the little 9mm he sent down to Darry. Then he asks them to wait at their car. Then he wants to check around and see if we can find out what we're up against. Are we dealing with a serial killer like the kids thought? Or something else.  
  
Xander heads for the Cathedral building itself while I mill around the junk heap. I bend to sniff at a bit of blood and hear the unmistakable sound of a boot on metal. I turn and a figure is running at me. Too fast. Vampires don't move this fast. WE don't even move this fast. Before I can react it has me. It's hands (claws?) grip my sides and lift.  
  
My head swims. We're still moving. This thing's moving too fast. I bring my chin to my chest and get a good look at it. The sickly green head and rows of sharp teeth tell what it is. A bane. A malevolent spirit of the wyrm, apparently materialized in the mundane world. I also see wings and realize that we're airborne. I could be miles away from Xander by now. One of it's clawed hands reaches methodically for my face as it grins at me.  
  
If this thing is a materialized bane then it won't want to go back to the spirit world. If it does it won't be coming back for awhile. It's eyes are almost completely white, but more importantly, I can see my face reflected in them. I focus on that as a crutch. I concentrate and try to slip my consciousness behind my face in it's eyes. Before it figures out what I'm doing I've crossed over. It's not here and I barely shift to a more durable form before the somewhat lower gravity of the spirit world reasserts itself.   
  
I land and roll for a few feet before coming to a halt. I stand as the nine-foot tall war form for a full five minutes waiting for an attack before I return to the physical world.   
  
I know what the thing wanted now. It knew me and Xander were a threat to it. I can only hope it doesn't know about the Garou, because if it does and it didn't before it sure as hell knows now. Though I'm going to bet it just smelled strength on us. It did go after me and not Xander after all. It must be intelligent, it thought to come at me hard and fast and more importantly it's divided us.  
  
I need to get back to Xander. I calm myself, taking several slow, deep breaths. Then I picture Xander in my head. I focus on his image and cast about for a scent.   
  
There isn't any physical scent here obviously. That's not what I'm doing. An wolf spirit taught me to do this. After a few minutes I feel a pull off to my right. Xander's in that direction, twenty miles. Jesus Christ. I drop to all fours as a wolf and take off.  
  
By the time I make two miles I can feel him moving off in another direction…  
  
- - - -  
Xander Harris; The Cathedral  
- - - -   
  
This is bad. Five minutes ago I heard a strangled little cry from the area Runs-like-Hell was in, and when I got there he was gone. I manage to follow his scent for about twenty feet north into the field before it disappears. I can't find a trace of him and I got very good at hunting when Oz taught me in High School. He's either crossed over (and a quick peek into the umbra tells me no) or it looks like he just fell off the face of the earth.  
  
A quick run to the kid's car and I tell them to get the hell out of here. I have a pretty good idea of what my quarry is doing here. Runs-like-Hell was the weaker of us, and I doubt that Trish and Darry would be able to do anything to it, so it wants fight Toby and I on our own. After the kids are gone I take a knee and try to meditate for control when the thing finally rears it's head.   
  
I don't have to wait long before I feel it's eyes on me. I know it's watching because I get a quesy physical sensation similar to when I first smelled the taint that led me here. I don't move. This is more than just not wanting to tip my hand, as it watches I'm beginning to get a general sense of what direction. It's best that I wait until it comes out in the open anyway.  
  
There's a sudden gust of wind and the feeling is gone. The creature isn't heading in the direction it dragged Runs-like-Hell, it's going east. Why the hell would it go east? Oh shit. That's when it hits me. The kids went east. The damn thing isn't after us! It's after them!  
  
Cursing all the while I run as lope along in wolf-form as fast as I can heading west, towards my car. I'll need as much speed as possible to catch up to them, and I'll probably get there too late.  
  
- - - -  
Time passes  
- - - -   
  
Along the shattered road and decaying highroad, Xander's ford hurtled along as fast as he could get it to go. For a brief few minutes the familiar feeling of wrong/unnaturalness returned. And during this time a shadow passed overhead. In response Xander merely snarled and pushed down harder on the accelerator.  
  
Trish and Darry traveled for some time in relative silence before reaching a truck stop. There they received an eerie phone call from a insane woman who knew about everything that happened to them, and warned to watch out for the song and the cats. The police were even less than helpful.  
  
Far away, Runs-like-Hell was living up to his name as he tried desperately to catch up to his friend. As the sun begun to dip under the horizon he redoubled his efforts, loping along in his wolf-form roughly parallel to the road.  
  
While being escorted to a local police station, Darry heard the song he was warned about and panicked. With good reason for only a moment later something hit their hood and the police car behind them skidded to a stop. Trish had wanted to check on the officers, but as she approached a tall, scraggly-looking man got out holding the male cops severed head. They didn't stay long enough to see him dessicate the remains. Just as well: for it gave them a head start as it went about it's grisly compulsions.  
  
And in the dark Xander was closing in…  
  
[A/N: I kind of wanted to give a better description of Runs-like-Hell's physicality, which first person sucks for. Also anyone who knows werewolf will recognise some gift use here. Big one:Sense Wyrm-Xander demonstrates this by being able to sense the creeper and it's den from some ways away. Medium: Sense of Prey- Runs-like-Hell uses this gift to track down Xander after they become seperated. Small: Scent of Man-Xander uses this gift to get the crows to like him, it fails when he becomes distracted. The lack of Action in this chapter will be made up for in the next as we have two knockdown drag-out fights with the creeper.] 


	10. Tangent: The Creeper's End

Title: Claws & Chaos  
  
Author: Heathen92  
  
Archive: Just tell me where to visit.  
  
Reviews: Let's face it, I'm gonna finish this thing no matter what happens. But reviews help the process along so, yes please. More the Merrier.  
  
Disclaimer: It's completely unfair, but Xander is the property of Joss and Mutant enemy, Werewolf and Runs-like-Hell belongs to White Wolf, and the Creeper, Trish, and Darry belong to some movie house.  
  
[A/N: For me this is a bit of a record. This had got to be the fastest I've ever updated a story before. The first chapter took me two days, and that thing was only two pages. And now I finish a ten pager in less than one. You know what caused this right? It was people like Yoraththewolf, Luis Silva, hattenjc, dragonhulk, Stephni Warner, Ed Becerra, Darklight, Marcia/misguides, and pointer3109. Which is coincidentally all the people who reviewed and two guys at the top of the list who acts as Beta and sounding board. I also need to find out who made the brand of Earl Grey Tea I've been drinking all day. That must have had something to do with it…   
  
Everyone who wanted more action in the last chapter, this one's for you.]  
  
- - - -   
  
Xander Harris; Driving down the Highway  
  
- - - -   
  
I'm closing in. I can feel it. My nose and eye aren't telling me that yet, but I can feel it. Some ten minutes ago I passed by the wreckage of a police car. There wouldn't have been any corpses so I didn't bother to slow down. To be honest I sped up.  
  
Soon I get the feeling again and I know the creature is right above me.   
  
One has to wonder though. There could be about three reasons for this: It could have decided to get me before it ate the kids, it might of decided I would taste better, or it might have already got the kids. Personally I'm hoping for the second one.   
  
About a minute later the engine grinds to a halt and my car coasts to a stop. I begin to get an inkling of what happened when all the hubcaps fall off my wheels. It's him. The creature is 'jamming the technology' a trick I've seen others of my kind do before, though it wasn't a technique I studied.  
  
Ah, yet a fourth possibility. It's leaving now so I bet it just wants to slow me down long enough to get to the kids. I don't think he knows exactly what I am. I hope I figure out what the hell he is in time.  
  
I get out and break into a run, after only a few feet I drop down to all fours and pick up speed.  
  
- - - -   
  
Trish Jenner; The Farm  
  
- - - -  
  
The farm we came to is too dark, and the old woman who comes to the door is too old and too crazy to be much help here. I tell her are names and that we need to call the cops, and she goes on about how the cops of this town are good for nothings that tell her how many cats she can and can't have. Holy crap.  
  
The lights come on when I tell her someone has been killed. And she doesn't even care it's a cop, she was worried that one of her cats got killed. I ask her if she heard a word I said, but Darry interrupts me. He's trying to pull me away when all the lights go out. I think (hope) it's a blown fuse until the windmill stops too.   
  
And there the psycho is: right where the scarecrow was. Before I even notice the old woman muscles up between us and points a shotgun at the man. "I'll give you ten seconds to get the hell out of my lawn! And don't think I won't shoot!" she waits five seconds and then fires.  
  
But the guy is moving impossibly fast. Before anyone can blink he's on her roof, and a moment later he crashes through and dozens of cats are running from the house. Darry tries to stop her, but he get a shotgun butt to the nuts for his trouble. I help him to his feet and we hear a shotgun blast. Then another.  
  
We both look to the door and the old woman is standing there. She comes a few steps closer and I can see splotches of crimson all over the front of her gown. And that, that thing must be standing behind her. I'm just standing there when I feel brush against my left, and I utter a short scream in shock.  
  
Xander has found us again. And now he stands in front of us, putting himself between us and the thing. "Don't stare back, and don't move until I tell you." I'm not in the mood to argue if he knows what the hell he's doing.  
  
- - - -   
  
The Farm  
  
- - - -   
  
The 'farm' was largely dominated by a dilapidated farmhouse, a tired old thing with rotting wood on the porch and outer walls. Off to one side a similarly run down swing chair hung suspended by only one remaining chain, the others having either fallen out of the ceiling or simply rusted and snapped. Just to the right a few planters with drooping sun flowers lay tipped over.  
  
The Lady of the House stood suspended behind the screen door. From the red stains seeping in to her blouse, the vacant look of her eyes and the way her feet dangled above the floor made it painfully obvious that she was dead. She didn't move a muscle as she moved forward, the screen door was pushed open with her forehead.   
  
Trish and Darry Jenner's mouths hung open, and they spoke not a word. Both of them had gone a pale white, for they saw the creature now at last. Xander Harris stood one foot in front of them. There was a scowl on his face as he interposed himself between the college kids and the threat. Trish groped in her pocket for the small handgun Xander had given her, but he stopped her hand. "Guns won't be of any use here."  
  
And from over the woman's shoulder, the creature peeked out. The skin on the Creeper's head, and neck, and claws, was a mottled green with sickly blue and gray. A grin played upon it's lips and revealed rows of jagged, razor sharp teeth. It's eyes were completely white, and yet shined with a feral, malevolent, intelligence. The old woman was tossed away while her killer was still grinning like a fiend.   
  
It was now that Xander yelled for the kids to run, as still grinning the Creeper walked to stand toe-to-toe with Xander. It took several deep whiffs of him before the man realized what was going on. With an effort of will he relaxed the iron grip he had put on his fear, and it seeped into his scent.  
  
The Creeper's grin grew wider as it clamped a hand over his opponent's throat. With lightning speed Xander drew his big .357 pistol and jammed it between the creature's teeth. He fired twice and it disappeared in a flash.  
  
- - - -   
  
On the Road Again  
  
- - - -  
  
Thirty minutes found all three speeding down the highway. Trish held the steering wheel in a white knuckle grip. Darry's leaned forward, his eyes downcast and his arms wrapped around himself. In stark contrast Xander was stretched out in the back, one foot propped up in the open window. Within five minutes they would be in the Pohoe County police station, and hopefully, relative safety.   
  
"What the hell was that thing?" Darry had asked once they were away from the farm.   
  
With his arms crossed behind his head, Xander had merely replied: "Demon."  
  
"And that's perfectly okay with you?" this time it was Trish "Just gonna lie there and say: 'Demon' like it's obvious?!" However calm her voice had been (not very) when she first started talking, she was nearly yelling when she finished.  
  
Unaffected Xander merely shrugged supplied "You get used to it. It might take a few years. They're not all like that actually, most of them are blue collar."  
  
"How do you know about this stuff?"   
  
"I hunt them." The rest of the ride into Pohoe was traveled in silence.   
  
- - - -  
  
Xander Harris; The Pohoe county police station.  
  
- - - -   
  
We get to the Police station and call their parents. Maybe I'm a little biased because of what happened with my parents but the fact that their so pissed off about the car makes me a little angry.   
  
Not nearly as angry as the amount of missing posters on the bulletin board though.   
  
Trish declines a ride home and I wonder if that's really a good idea. I make sure she knows that I didn't kill it. She nods with out a word. No way can I think of something to make either one of them feel better, and it's probably best that I not lie and tell them it's going to be okay.   
  
A large black woman barges into the police station looking for Darry. She shuts up the gutless desk jock that tries to throw her out and starts to tell Darry and Trish all about the dreams she had of them. She knows too many details to be just a random kook but they're not buying it. I'm particularly interested when she says it can regenerate.   
  
It's around then that the lights go out and the desk jock gets a call on his CB about a freak tearing up the holding cells. I tell the kids to stay here and head in that direction behind the cops.   
  
I did some scouting around the place when we first arrived and noticed that the place, intentionally or not, had been set up to be ideal for a siege. If there was a disturbance in the jail cells there was only one hallway that would lead from there into the lobby where the kids were. And right now twenty cops and I right behind them are in the banes way. So long as they stay put they'll be fine.   
  
One brave cop heads a little closer to the stairs and gets his heart torn out for his trouble. The thing reached down from the ceiling. The cops open fire now, and the creature is heading up to the other floors. Why would it go up? It scent disappears and I run back into the lobby their not there.   
  
I follow Trish's scent down the hall and up to the second floor. I don't get very far along her trail before I notice a different scent converging on it. It's scent.   
  
Both scents grow stronger, hers with stress and sweat, it's with lust and hunger. I enter a hallway and see the black woman kneeling there. I walk down the hall towards her and she speaks in a quavering voice. "It went this way, after them. I tried to warn them, I tried to…"  
  
I don't let her finish. As I pass I snarl at her. When I do it isn't a man's sound, I'm almost on top of the fiend and the wolf is coming to the fore. "Be silent! You gave them to it on a silver platter…" I probably would have throttled her but I hear a the breaking of sturdy glass and start running.   
  
- - - -   
  
Trish Jenner; The holding room  
  
- - - -   
  
We rush into what looks like an interrogation room when we leave Jez un that hallway. She led us into a trap. Darry is trying to pry the bars off the windows without much luck. Then my eyes fix on the mirror. I feel drawn to it. There's something strange about it. Aren't these things usually one sided? Darry grabs me and yells at me for checking myself in the mirror at a time like this. I fight him, I try to tell him that there's something strange about it when the demon breaks through the glass.  
  
We huddle in the corner for a moment before it grabs each of us in one hand. I tremble in fear and revulsion as the thing takes deep sniffs of me and Darry, pausing once to lick me from the neck to the cheek. Finally it casts me aside.  
  
It grabs Darry in a chokehold in front of the window. And I beg. I plead. I tell the thing that whatever is inside Darry is in me. I tell him that I'm stronger. I'm the one he wants, and I won't fight him. He can just take me. Whatever he wants. And finally it speaks. It's voice is rough, like nails on chalkboard: "Shut up little girl… Or I'll take you both."  
  
I swallow hard as Darry struggles to tell me not to be a hero. Then I hear a different rough voice from behind me, one that reminded me of the hard men in the westerns Darry and I watched as kids. In the pale light of a full moon, Xander's making his play.  
  
"Now at last, I think I understand you creature." The thing turns to him and bears it's teeth. "You're strong, you're fast, and you're tough. But I've seen tougher. But that's okay with isn't it?" Xander is coming closer to it, inch by inch.  
  
"It's all about fear with you. It's how you hunt and select prey. It's what gets you off. The reason you've let the kids live so long, you enjoy the fear…" The raised portion of it's skin came off it's face in flaps, extending outward like a fan around it's face, and it let out an ear-piercing screech. "Scary. Well as an old friend of mine once said…" Xander's drawing back a fist, whatever good it might do.   
  
"There are scarier things out there than you…" And at this last his voice is changed. It is low and feral, like a wolf's snarl. "And I'm one of them." And he throws his punch…  
  
…But it is no fist that lands. A silver-furred claw rakes across the things face and it recoils in surprise. Where Xander stood there is now a nine-foot tall creature. It's huge, it stands like a man, but silver-white fur covers it completely, and it's head is that of a wolf's. A pissed off wolf.   
  
It howls and bellows in rage and this time it does not take a swipe at the demon, but one of it's massive paws grips the creatures waist and squeezes. The demon screeches again, but this time it is not so intimidating a sound, as I'm knocked to the ground and Darry is with me. As both the beast and the demon are hurtled through the window, I encircle his chest to calm him. And the sudden image springs to mind, this is how I comforted my little brother when he had a nightmare and mom and dad were away. And all at once I come to the realization: We've both been saved.   
  
- - - -   
  
The night sky above the police station lawn.   
  
- - - -   
  
Xander's trouble was far from over. The Creepers bat-like wings beat furiously at the air trying to gain altitude, and the creeper's arms beat just as hard on the clawed hand around it's waist. But the hand's grip would no more loosen than if a child were hammering at it. For a servant of Falcon had taught him this trick, and the power of the spirits was at it's peak within him tonight.   
  
The Creeper hopes to use it's wings to gain an advantage, but it couldn't gain altitude. In human form it's opponent was a lean and strong two-hundred pounds, it's man-wolf battle form added the tally up to eight-hundred pounds. The howling werewolf itself was having it's own difficulties. The bane's kicking feet kept it from reaching up with it's jaws.  
  
As the combatants bobbed and swayed in front of the moon the Creeper tried a different tactic. It swooped down to the ground as fast as it could, using the added weight of the wolf for more speed. Together they slammed into the ground. Both were stunned in the impact, but Xander's grip slackened. The creeper was up in an instant and it jumped into the air to take flight. But it was halted by a strong hand on it's calf. Half a second later the Silver wolf swung the creature around by the leg and drove it into the earth. As the creature came to it's senses it was already too late.  
  
Xander pounced upon the still prone form one hind paw stood upon the legs as he bent over the thing. What followed next was a frenzy of claws and fangs as he tore into the Creeper repeatedly. Both claws and his terrible jaws dug in, ripping and tearing at the middle and chest. Flesh fell in tatters, entrails were spread about, and most of the ribcage fell away in shattered pieces. The savage display continued for several moment after the creature stopped moving and it's eyes glazed over.  
  
And finally, silhouetted by the Full-moon, the Hunter's moon, HIS moon, Xander howled his triumph into the night.  
  
- - - -   
  
The holding room  
  
- - - -  
  
Darry had finally had enough and was now curled asleep in one corner of the room. Trish now sat in front of the window with her legs pulled up to her chest, her chin resting on her knees. She had seen the demon and the wolf fighting in the air until they plummeted, and several minutes later she heard the howl.   
  
Eventually she saw a silver paw appear in the corner of the windowsill. Then another came to a rest in the middle. A large wolf head with an eye-patch came up next, and finally the whole thing hoisted itself up into the room. She shivered a little. She knew this wolf just saved her and Darry, but it was still scary as hell.   
  
It shrank down and fur pulled into the skin until it was just Xander standing there. And she had only one question. "Did you kill it?" Xander merely nodded. And then more tellingly he put a hand on her shoulder, but then they heard something that chilled Trish to the bone, the flap of wings.  
  
Before Xander could find it a brick sailed through the air and struck his forehead. Then the Creeper appeared in the window. It was only able to move with pain and it grabbed Darry before Xander could change back, and flew out the window.   
  
Xander recovered in time to look out the window and see Trish running down the walk screaming Darry's name. In a matter of moments he joined her, catching up when she lost sight of the creature and her kin. When he got there she merely stared up into the night sky.  
  
Cautiously, he turned and laid a hand on her shoulder. She shuddered under his touch, then shockingly, she turned on him. There was fire in her eyes, and however foolish it would make him feel later Xander felt his heart rise in him like when he'd been a teenager.   
  
Xander allowed her to take out her frustrations out on him as much as she needed to. When she screamed "It's your fault, all your fault! You were supposed to protect him!" he said nothing. When her small fists punched and beat on his chest he didn't try to stop them. And as the floodgates fully opened, he caught and held her as she slumped sobbing against his chest. As she buried herself as deep into his chest and arms as she could go, he stared up at the hunter's moon.  
  
Xander bit back on the rage that boiled and rose within him. Though he grew restless by the light of the moon, he stayed. But deep within the furnace of his heart a vow was made:  
  
Before the week was through he would send that Bane back to hell.  
  
- - - -   
  
The lobby of the Pohoe County Sheriffs Station; Morning.  
  
- - - -   
  
The morning found Trish and Xander in the sheriff's lobby. She had spent most of the night cradled against him as he reclined on one of the couches. She had accused him of all sorts of things, she had cried, and at some time between when Darry had been taken and two a.m., she slept.   
  
She awoke in the morning at eight thirty, an hour after Xander himself. For a long time she merely lay against him. Before the silence lengthened anymore Trish shifted and looked up at him. "What was that last night? The wolf." Xander detected an unspoken question in her words. 'Was that you? Is that what you really are?'   
  
With a sigh Xander replied "That was me." And he waited for the questions. None came. The girl merely lie back and mumbled "Thought so." Another long silence crept in, though this one much less uncomfortable. It was again Trish that broke the silence. "I'll never be safe will I?"  
  
"I don't think he will trouble you anymore than the bastard already has." At some point during the night Xander had shared his vow with her.  
  
"Even so, you said you've fought things like him before. There are others out there."   
  
Xander wanted to hold his tongue, to let the question slide. But he couldn't. "That true. And now that you've seen what you have… you can never go back." She had seen what went bump in the night, as he had so many years ago.   
  
Her next question was about a monster, but not one she feared… An offer. "Stay with me?" And he knew why she made it. It was a new world for her. And the very night she first saw it he had come, an otherworldly power that had protected her. She would latch on to him as he had to Buffy. And if he returned those feelings? If they didn't go unrequited as his had? Many times during the past five years he'd considered forming his own gang, support in the fight.  
  
Four months ago, before he'd come to New Jersey and all this had started he would have said yes.  
  
Instead he took her hands in his, and told her it couldn't happen. That she would be much better off if their worlds didn't cross. He told her not to make the mistake he had. Trish laid he chin on her chest for a moment. Then she looked up, held out her hand, and made a request. "Bite me."  
  
"What? And then with a shock it came to him. She wanted him to pass it to her through his bite. "Trish… I was never bitten. I was born what I am." As he said it out loud at last, he knew it was true. For the past few months he'd denied it in his heart. He was a capable warrior, but he'd never joined a pack. He'd been resisting his own people. "For better or worse, I bite you, and the only thing that happens is you need a band-aid." For several long minutes she'd regarded him.   
  
The moment was finally broken when Jez, the old psychic that had led Darry to his death interrupted. "I called your parents. They'll be here in a few hours." But Trish had something else to ask.  
  
"Are your dreams ever wrong?"  
  
Jez sighed before responding "I'm just a crazy old woman. You ask anyone around here and that's what they'll tell you."  
  
Xander was more stubborn than that. "You didn't answer the question."  
  
The woman grew angry. And her anger bordered on hysterical. "Of course they aren't! I wouldn't get them if they were wrong!"  
  
And Xander, seeing a chance to fulfill his oath and possibily surpass it, was undaunted. "The boy could still be alive couldn't he?"  
  
"He's alive. I wish he weren't with what he's going to go through but he's alive. And we can't do a damn thing about it. I can't see where he is, and it's not the church."  
  
Xander glare was cold as he spoke. "I have beaten the creature into submission before, and I will do it again… And if you hadn't led them away from the lobby it would have had to go through me to get them. Remember this, and get the hell out of my sight, before I lose control."  
  
The woman left in a huff, and Xander was still fuming when she was out of sight. But a hand on his arm calmed him down. "Don't." That was all she said. All she needed too.  
  
"Xander, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I blamed you for what she and that thing did. You were just trying to save us. And if you hadn't come when you did I would be gone too." As she spoke her eyes shone with unshed tears. Once again his heart lifted as it hadn't since before he even knew about all the evils of the world.   
  
It was then that a familiar face burst through the door. A blonde, blue-eyed man wearing a T-shirt that depicted a young boy and cartoon tiger as Gaia and God never intended. The man was Toby Runs-like-Hell.  
  
"Xander!" he exclaimed once he laid eyes on him. "Jesus man I've been running almost non-stop since that thing grabbed me." he walked over, and as Xander prepared himself for an embrace Runs-like-Hell stretched out on the sofa.  
  
"Toby! My god I thought you were dead. How did you find me?" Though it wouldn't do anything for Trish, Toby's return was just what Xander needed. After Xander explained that Trish was "in the know" he got even better news  
  
"A wolf spirit taught me how to track anyone, anywhere so long as I either know them or got something that belongs to them… What?" Both Xander and Trish had turned their gaze on him.   
  
"What exactly do you need to track someone?" As she spoke hope was already returning to her eyes.  
  
"Just something small and meaningful to them. Like a…"  
  
"Like a class ring?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Darry always kept his class ring in the glove box!" And with that she rushed off to the parking lot. Leaving a very puzzled Toby behind.  
  
"Xander you wanna tell me what I've just gotten in to? Who the hell is Darry?"  
  
"Remember that girl's brother? Well the bane took him. And you're going to track him down… we're gonna have to take her car though."  
  
"It doesn't work with a car. Something about a machine separating us from the mother earth."  
  
"So we run." To his credit Toby didn't argue. But as he rose from the couch his knees and legs trembled violently. This wasn't lost on Xander. "You won't be able to run will you?" Xander bit his lower lip. But by the time Trish returned with the ring he had a plan.  
  
- - - -   
  
A field on the outskirts of Pohoe County  
  
- - - -   
  
Trish's car pulled to a stop in dirt field, one that had gone barren many years before. The men got out of the back seat. Trish got out and followed close behind. Off their looks she claimed "He's my brother. I'm going." Xander considered this gravely but consented.  
  
"If you gotta go you gotta go. But you do exactly what I say." And with that he stripped off his belt.   
  
"Whoa. Hey! What exactly do you think is gonna happen out here?" But Xander tossed his belt to Runs-like-Hell.  
  
"Watch and learn." was all Xander had to say. Then he dropped to all fours and a silver-furred wolf stood in his place.   
  
"You didn't really think we could only change to be a man and a big wolfman did you?" Toby supplied with a grin. Trish still didn't see why the belt came off. Then the Xander-wolf began to stretch and arch his back as she looked on. After a minute of this the wolf had grown from as tall at the shoulder as her waist to standing shoulder to shoulder in height.  
  
The huge wolf then laid down and rested it's head on it's forepaws. "Go on," Toby eased "He's not gonna bite."  
  
"Go on and do what?" But Xander snorted from his position, and she understood. Carefully she put one leg over his side and gently sat down right below the shoulder blades, her hands coiling in his mane. As soon as she was settled Toby settled in behind her and looped the belt in back of Xander's teeth. Then Toby held the ring in front of his face for a while. The trickster Werewolf sniffed at the ring, nibbled it once. Then tugged left on the belt.   
  
"Get along little doggie. That a way." Xander snarled but obliged. Bad enough he had to do this degrading thing (though it wouldn't be so bad if it were just one of them), he didn't want to be taunted as he did it. Soon they were bounding along in the direction Runs-like-Hell directed at a fast pace.  
  
- - - -   
  
An abandoned machine shop  
  
- - - -   
  
Deep in the dank halls of a large factory a new Cathedral of flesh was being built, one body at a time. The first was the mostly eaten body of a Sheriff's Deputy. The head had been sewed back on, but that was the only attempt at repairing the body. The midsection and chest of the deputy had been torn out.  
  
Several hours later, an African deputy came was imbedded in the steel of the wall. She was intact, though there was delicate stitching holding together her torn throat.  
  
And watching all this, suspended from the ceiling by thick rope, Darry screamed. He'd been screaming off and on as often as he could for the past few hours. There are few men who could watch the Creeper go about it's work without breaking down.   
  
The Creeper had taken particular interest with freaking out the boy for a number of reasons. The most obvious and immediate was the fact that the boy's fear was intoxicating. Another was the fact that the original Cathedral had been destroyed because of the boy and his friends, so the boy would watch as he rebuilt before finally being worked in.   
  
The reason that the Creeper and it's depraved psyche didn't want to admit was the fact that it had been frightened and wounded badly by the boy's self-appointed protector. The Werewolf's claws and teeth had caused damage and pain of the kind the creature had never felt before, and the boy would suffer for that. And he would know what awaits him.   
  
The creeper paused in it's work for a moment. It had heard something. A click? Why a click? The creature had until two weeks ago, been 'asleep.' Many modern creations seemed odd to it, such as the emergency lights in the jail. It didn't recognize the sound for what it was.  
  
Such as a safety clicking off.   
  
Shots rang out in the dark, louder than the boys screams. Nine millimeter rounds struck the bane's back. Under other circumstances it might have been amused. Bullets didn't hurt after all. Today however, it was still in pain from the night before. So it turned around in a rage to eviscerate whatever it was.  
  
And there in the hallway stood Trish Jenner.  
  
The beast smiled and stalked towards her as Darry screamed for her to run. As it closed in two large forms attacked from the shadows on either side of the hall.   
  
One was the large silver werewolf that had nearly killed it the night before. From the other side came a large gray werewolf, this one stood just a tad shorter and smaller than the other. But that still meant it was a nearly nine-foot tall killing machine.  
  
Trish kept her distance as the three slugged it out. Eventually the silver wolf chomped down on an arm, the gray wolf on a wing, and as one they yanked it off. As the creature screamed they held it aloft between them like a wounded soldier on a stretcher. As the bane thrashed in their grip they slowly seemed to fade out existence. When it was finished the only sign of their passing was claw marks on the walls and ceiling, as well as an arm and wing form the demon.  
  
Not wasting anytime Trish cut her brother down and helped him out of the building.  
  
- - - -   
  
An abandoned machine shop's reflection in the Umbra.  
  
- - - -   
  
As soon as they crossed into the spirit world the creature grew harder to control, and eventually it broke free. It was much stronger here. Even with an arm and wing missing it might still be able to take down one of them.   
  
But in the Umbra, spirits could be killed. And this time it was fighting two Garou, not one.  
  
Toby bit down on a calf as the Creeper screeched and clawed at Xander. A quick shake of his jaws and the bone and sinew in the creatures leg gave way, and it fell back. Taking advantage of his friends opening Xander fell upon the bane for the first time since the battle outside the sheriff's station. This time, however, fangs dug into the corrupt flesh of it's neck as his talons went to work on the thing's midsection and chest again.   
  
Eventually the screech gave way to a terrified scream. Then that fell to a pitiable wail as it's very essence began to dissolve. With one last shake of his maw Xander ended the thing.   
  
And the howls this time truly were from the victor.  
  
- - - -   
  
The road outside.  
  
- - - -   
  
Darry had been more or less shocked into silence by the whole ordeal. Trish was too tired to say anything. For now they trudged along the road hoping someone would pick them up.   
  
The sun set without them even knowing. As they crested a hill Trish looked up and did notice at least one thing.   
  
The moon tonight was full.   
  
The siblings made their way down the hill, after a short time they heard a long howl. Both turned, one wary of some new threat, the other recognizing the howl for what it was.  
  
Two wolves stood atop the hill, a gray sat on it's haunches in back, and a silver wolf stood tall and proud at the front. Trish noticed that one of the wolf's eyes had been destroyed. The silver raised it's head and uttered a long and mournful howl. Trish knew it for what it was: the howl meant farewell.  
  
As Trish smiled the wolf raised it's call once more and both it and the gray bound away into the night, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.  
  
By the light of the hunter's moon, she realized she would never see her knight in shining armor again.  
  
[A/N: The big freaking wolf (not the wolfman) Xander turned into is called the hispo form, essentially wolf the size of a horse. Also the 'grip that would not break' is Falcon's Grasp, another gift taught by spirits. There are some parts of this that I feel somewhat disappointed by. The scene where Toby and Trish ride Hispo Xander, while fun and pretty good on it's own, seemed really out of character for the whole entry. Or maybe I'm just nitpicking at myself. We'll be returning to the overall plot next chapter. Thanks for reading!] 


	11. Fathers pt1

Author:Heathen92

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Feedback: I need it now more than ever.

A/N: You know, it's been a year since I updated this. Real life interrurpted it in a major way. A lot can happen in a year. People change, sometimes for the better, sometimes not. To be honest I'm not really sure which happened to me. Do you think it'll come out in my writing?

Xander wanted to learn all he could about pentex. (or just the branch in New Jersey at least) He had discovered a great many disturbing facts about the mega corporation already.

For all the years he had hunted, he could find nothing to compare it to in his own experiences. Instead he compared Pentex with the experiences of his one-time rival Angel: the corrupt law-firm Wolfram & Hart.

Wolfram & Hart had existed in one form or another since the first law-keepers of humanity had begun to pop-up. Since then they had slowly built power in the mortal world, using subtle coercion and the occasional assassination to assert themselves. All the while showing an urbane and legitimet face to the world at large. For all their smoke and mirrors, however, anyone who had personal experience with the law firm or any cause to investigate them would find catacombs worth of skeletons in their collective closets.

Pentex was in some ways the polar opposite. Xander could only follow their trail back as far as the late 1800's at which point they were only a tiny fraction of their current size, having grown to monolithic proportions in a realatively short time. Also Pentex seemed to favor blunter instruments such as hostile takeover and the First Teams he had run across already. Even with their lack of subtley Pentex was barely in the public eye. Only those who kept up with the fortune five hundred companies (or their beleaguered competition) knew the name.

From what he could tell they accomplished this by filtering all their illicet activities through a thousand different subsidiaries. According to the Bone Gnawer and Glass Walker tribes (Both consisting of city Garou) there were at least five different subsidiary companies in New Jersey alone.

Xander had personally seen two pieces of Pentex property. Seen from the outside the building he'd been kept in had looked like an ordinary office complex. It consisted of several small warehouses and guard posts surrounding a large central building. The other property had turned out to be of all things, a toy company. For nearly a week Xander had staked out the place.

And nothing had ever made his rage so hard to resist.

The building churned out several boxes of toys everyday, the merest fraction of what any factory with a proper assembly line would put out, each toy must have been painstakingly made by hand. Taking a trip to the local toy store Xander discovered that all the toys ranged from $2.99 to $19.99. Every single toy from that factory was sold at a loss.

The reason for this simple and monstrous in it's intent. Not a single product sold for profit. Xander, the Silver Fang Ahroun, called upon the spirits, asked them to reveal the corruption of his newfound people's most hated enemy.

… and every child's toy was infested with a bane. A vile servant of the wyrm.

As much as he wanted to Xander wasn't the one to attack the factory. One night a dark haired woman loitered near the eastern perimeter. She looked at home on the streets, although he could tell that she had come up in the world.

He let all of his senses wash over her, drinking in all of her form in ways he never could have before he changed. Her graceful movement, the scent of her unmasked by fragrance, the soft wind of her breath. Every dark strand of hair, the pink of her lips, bronzed skin, and a woman's curves.

As a boy he would have considered her a hottie. A goddess to be lusted after. The man he'd become knew many more refined words for the vision, but he had long stopped caring for any of those words.

The great werewolf, newly inducted into the Garou's tribe of leader but already gaining renown for changing so late, entering the war as a skilled combatant so early (if they only knew), with even the Wyrm's ancient bane; the creeper falling before his prowess. News was also spreading amongst the Garou Nation that Jonas Albrecht had taken on mentorship of a newly changed and already mighty warrior. Some of the ragabash were already spreading a rumor that Xander was the heir-apparent to the throne and the silver crown.

He had come so far, changed so much. And looking at her now? He was struck dumb.

She was gorgeous. Faith was beautiful.

Faith had been pointed in the direction of the toyco toy company factory by Xander's gunsmith, Nathan Radley , as possible haven for the werewolves, ones that might lead her to danger. She wasn't told and couldn't have known what atrocities were commited there.

She didn't bother cutting a hole in the fence. She didn't need to. Slayers don't grow slower or weaker with age. If anything they just get stronger. With barely a second's pause for breath she vaulted over the tall fence.

She didn't pause for any reason. Quickly and silently Faith made way for the main building. The plan was to come up on one of them and get to him before he changed. That would make it easier to have a… conversation. No point in an interrogation if the only answer you'll get is a snarl and a howl.

In the years after Sunnydale caved in Giles had found in Faith a better student than he ever had in Buffy. The elder slayer was indisputably the stronger. But with acceptance from the scooby gang Faith had found feelings of belonging and warmth for the first time in her life. Though they lived many miles apart now she'd finally found her family. Dawn and even Willow had become like sisters to her, and Giles had become more and more like the Father she'd always needed.

She'd learned many things from the Senior Watcher. He'd taught her everything she'd ever need to know as a slayer. He'd taught her new fighting styles, the smallest of hedge magic tricks, a few street tricks, and even a new language or two. (Dead languages, all she needed to do was read it, not say it.) He'd taught her to use gravity to her advantage when sneaking into a building. Go from the top, work your way down. Think of buildings like hills.

Giles would be so proud.

Once she was inside the Slayer decided that the factory had to be a front for something. There was no assembly line, very little in the way of complex machinery, and the toys piled on the western side of the open building were too few in number. As she made her way carefully to the floor a lingering dread washed over her.

A low growl came from the shadows to her left. Faith dropped into a defensive stance. A contemtuous laugh echoes from my right. A giant wolf's head far larger than the Garou's normally get. Snarling he comes forward, the whole of his from in the light, ready to pounce. "That will be a enough doodledog. No need to get excited just yet." The wolf roars but steps further back into the shadows, the head once again the only visible part of it's body.

Faith turned to face the voice at her right as the man it belonged to emerged from the shadows. He dressed himself in slacks, a white shirt and tie, cover with a long black raincoat. He pressed a cigar to his lips, pressed in between gloved fingers. "Who the hell are you?" was the only thing she could think to say.

He ignored the question. "Faith… you've caused a lot of trouble for us you know." The wolf snarled in the corner. "Don't mind him. He's just pissed that our master values me more than him." The man stood out, seemed more vivid than the world around him. Yet for all she tried Faith couldn't quite make him out. The clothes, his actions. Even the tiniest gesture stood out like a light. But the man himself… he was bland. Forgettable.

"I'll make a lot more. You know why I'm here right?"

"That we do Faith."

"And you know what's going to happen if you don't tell me where he is."

"Do you really think this the best way to go about getting what you want? Come on, your not a teenager anymore. This schoolyard routine is beginning to try my employer's patience. You monkeywrench our operation, we try and kill you. On and on. Maybe we get you this time. Or maybe you keep going and live to fight another day. Who cares. At the end of the day what have you accomplished. A few more corpses. A few more explosions. None of it matters." He paused to take a drag off his cigarette. "We've got a better idea, how about you do a job for us?"

"Never."

"Would it really be so bad? All you'll do is kill monsters. Like you do now. We'll never ask you to kill a human. And most of all you'll get to see him. He's with us now. He knows what you're doing. But he still wants to see you."

Faith was quiet, she bit her lower lip considering his words. "Only monsters?"

The man smiled. "Only monsters, Faith."

In response Faith drew a .45 caliber handgun turned and shot the corrupt werewolf in the head, the soft metal of the silver bullet mushrooming out as it pierced the skull and spattered the creature's brains against the wall. He crumbled to the floor, human now, but all the more monsterous as one of his hands fell out of the shadow: it was webbed. "The only things I see right now are monsters," She pointed the pistol in his direction. "Even human monsters."

The man snarled. "Fine be that way, you bit-" Faith opened fire on the man as he stood motionless. With every bullet she sent in his direction he stared at her, and every bullet veered off course. As her magazine emptied Faith ran for cover. As his hands disappeared into his coat for only a split second she leapt behind on of the few pieces of machinery in the factory. With machine pistols that seemed to come from the air itself in his hands the man let off a burst of his own fire that ricoheted off the slayers cover. Faith ripped the heavy siding off the lathe she'd hid behind. With a scream of rage her opponent let loose another volley of bullets that soared above her cover…

…and then the bullets turned right back around. She moved the metal siding like a shield just in time as the rounds rained down on her. Fighting panic, she scrambled to find an escape. Keeping low, the slayer retreated to the fire doors at the back of the building. Before she got there the man skided around the corner aiming the pistols for her heart and head. He flashed her a feral grin and pulled both triggers.

Incredibly both hammer fell on empty chambers.

The man snarled and threw his guns away. With an all too human howl of anger he thrust his outstretched right hand at her. Lightning streaked from his hands and washed over her. She cried out in pain for seconds that seemed like hours.

The man stopped his assault as a long swath of boils and cancerous tumors opened up at his right temple and boiled down past his jaw and down his neck, reality lashing out at an affront to it's natural laws. His back arced, he gritted his teeth and pulled his lips back in a snarl as his gaze turned skyward. Eventually the boils and tumors receded back into his flesh.

Faith had already made good her escape.

And when the Mage recovered his weapons he would find that both clips were still half-full.

That night Xander had come closer to the factory that night than any other. He'd peered in the window, seen the gun-toting madman bearing down on Faith, and had saved her in the most discreet manner he could.

Many Garou spurn the use of high-technology. It is one of the great equalizers between them and their frailer advesaries. It was simple evolution for his people to utilize a spirit gift to counter it. Complex machines were easy with there many, many things that could go wrong. Simple machines such as guns took a little more effort.

Faith had fled as fast as she could and it had been child's play to conceal himself enough to avoid notice. Then it had just been a matter of walking softly to his blue fairmont as the Magus threw his temper tantrum inside. Once he was safely in his car Xander made way for his home in the North Country Protectorate.

On the drive over he contemplated how best to broach his proposal with Albrecht, which was almost guaranteed to piss off the king.

The next morning Faith called in sick. The mage she'd fought last night had made sure she wasn't just trying to weasel out of work. Her muscles still twitched, her skin still burned, and a few hairs had been charred, all by the force of his lightning attack. She was lucky to be alive.

She had had closer calls to be sure. But Faith hadn't been this demoralized in a long time. For much of the day the slayer just sat in her living room, quietly miserable.

When the knock came on her door she decided to let whoever it was piss-off. Her guest had other ideas, for after a few knocks she heard a key being inserted and turned in the lock. Hurt or not, the slayer was up in flash to deal with the intruder:

Rupert Giles. Her spare apartment key still in his hand.

For a long moment neither said anything. It had been some time since they had spoken in person, and both looked somewhat worse for wear.

Faith was dressed only in baggy men's boxers (they were NOT a trophy) and a gray T-shirt. Her skin was sheet-white and wan. The stance she'd fallen into was clumsy. Tired eyes said more about her condition than anything else. Dark bags told the world just how exhausted and hurt she was after last night.

As for Giles… Time was finally starting to catch up with him. All his hairs had finally gone gray. His glasses were bifocals now, and they hung on a face with too many wrinkles. At last he was starting to develop an old man's belly. Then again, for all the ravages of age his eyes were the same. They still held all the intelligence, caring, and kindness Faith remembered.

"F-faith? Good lord, are you all right?" He still had the eyes of a lifelong bachelor, one who had become a father to many.

"I see nothing gets by you, old man…" Pleasantries and embraces had been exchanged, ending with Giles insistence on her having a cup of hot tea and a bowl of chicken soup. She hadn't needed a nursemaid, but the man had been dealing with slayers for over fourteen years: Old habits die hard. Then they reanimate and you keep doing them.

The Slayer hadn't even known that he was coming. "Giles, it's good to see you, but why didn't you call ahead? Something up?" she took a sip. Giles and his tea… nasty medicine.

The old englishman grinned and refilled her cup. "Right to the heart of matter. It's good to see some things don't change."

"Well you did show up after almost two years and not even bother to knock. Also, letting yourself into a slayer's apartment without so much as a knock is kinda risky, you know?"

Giles' smile didn't fade, but it took on a sardonic cast. "I'm worried about you. Everytime your on the phone I can tell that your distracted by something. You have been for some time."

Faith bit her lower lip. Her watcher knew something was up.

"I was going to let you sort out your own problems."

The big question: did he know what was really going on?

"You've grown immensely since I first met you, and I'm proud of who you've become…"

Would it really be so bad if he knew? Giles could keep a secret.

"…but I'm worried."

And why did she need to keep it a secret? It's not like it had helped Buffy and Angel.

And where had that thought come from.

"I just wanted to come here and let you know, in person, that if you need to talk to me about anything at all: I'm here."

And so: bruised, broken, and burnt; faith grew tired of going it alone.

She told him everything.

Early in the morning Xander parked in an abandoned parking lot several miles from King Albrecht's court. As a progressive monarch among the Garou, Jonas Albrecht saw the need to make his court more accessible to the city wolves. So a small lot had been made in wilderness. A waste of space on obscure and forgotten property of some corporation.

A corporation that was owned by the aforementioned city wolves.

Even so, he couldn't really make it easy on them. The reasoning was that the chief flaw of the Glass Walkers and Bone Gnawers was that they weren't good in the wilds. Make'em walk, if only for a few miles.

Xander shifted to his wolf-form and began the long trot home.

A few hours later he howled his greeting. The majority of Garou proclaimed their name, rank, intent, and occasionaly, lineage. But Xander could never claim the last. He was a lost cub, with no Garou relatives. And he couldn't very well claim his mentor, the King.

At least urination before entering wasn't nessecary anymore.

A familiar howl answered. Runs-like-Hell: a fellow packless Garou. The forever joking warrior met Xander half-way. "Hey good buddy, what brings you back so soon?"

"News I don't think anyone here's gonna like." Xander stood to human height, thumped his friend on the chest good naturedly, and resumed his trek.

"Ah come on. It can't be that bad. King Albrecht even let you start keeping a box of twinkies in the kitchen."

"An old friend. A human friend."

"Oh. You know that's not generally a good idea. You've changed, more than just a different person, hell, we're kind of… not… persons. But… Anyway it's best to move on, man. Let me guess: she's an old lay right?"

Xander stopped for a moment. What was she to him? They only been together for one night. And that night they hadn't even been truly together. He'd fought side by side with her before her betrayal, and again after she'd been (in his eyes at least) redeemed. But in these last six years he hadn't tried to contact anyone else from the hellmouth.

Perhaps it was the fact that the first thing she'd done when they'd met again was… take care of him. Save him. It had been a long time since anyone had done that for him. It's ingratiating. "She is. Was. But that's not quite it."

"Then spill: What. Is. Quite. It?" Toby Runs-like-Hell's voice took a deeper and more serious tone, mocking Xander's normal speaking voice.

"I hunted demons with her." Toby cast Xander a genuine concerned glance. "She's a Slayer."

"Well that's nice, Albrecht'll love her. Maybe even walk her down the aisle…" the younger werewolf stopped in his tracks. "Oh. Wait. That will never happen!"

"Walk down the…? I never said anything about marriage! I didn't even say dinner and a movie!"

"Then what is it?"

"She's _helping_ us. Even if she doesn't realise it."

"How?"

"Last night I saw her infiltrate one of the enemy's cesspit's, killed a Black Spiral Dancer and fought one of their mages to a stand still."

"So what? The enemy of our enemy is _not_ our friend. You know what a Slayer's gonna do when she finds out you're a werewolf? 'Hey honey, how was work? Do you like this sword? It's silver!' Then BAM! You're a corpse."

"You know what, Toby? You're right this is a big, complicated deal. That's why I'm going to have an official audience with the King." Xander strode forward into the compound, leaving his concerned friend behind.

And after an hour standing rooted to the same spot, Xander understood the meaning of the phrase "hurry up and wait."

Trying not to sound like a petulant child: He'd never been forced to wait this long to see the King. Ever. Normally almost no one waited this long to see Albrecht. All tribes were given equal weight in his court. With no visiting tribes he should be free.

Moments later Albrecht burst through the doors to his throne room. The cobalt blue eyes of the Gaian King fell on the deep chocalate eyes of his chosen apprentice. They were set like granite. The King had been told what the audience was about. "Come with me." He was not happy.

Albrecht walked. Xander followed. Through several sumptous hallways, up several flights of stairs. At the end of a particularly long flight of stairs they reached the top floor of a tower. One of several watch towers that dotted the North Country grounds. As they entered a man and women who couldn't be older than twenty stood up straight and thumped their clenched right fists to their chest. The closest thing the Garou would ever have to an attention and salute.

In his left, the man held the barrel of a sniper rifle. The woman held at her side a pair of binoculars. They were a kinfolk sniper team. The human relatives of the Garou. From them more Garou were born, perhaps one in ten. But they were more than just a means to an end. The humans and wolves who made up the kinfolk were the connection that served as constant reminder of what the Garou Nation was fighting for.

In general those of them that served the Nation acted as support only. Occasionally a family or spouses would act as guards. Unlike human military where family members were kept out of the same unit, among the Nation's human soldiers was true. There could be made the rationale that no loyalty need be built up among a squad that consisted of family members, already loyal to eachother. In reality it was simple instinct. None fought together side to side and back to back better than father and son or brother and sister.

Or in the case of these two fiances. Xander knew these two personally, Kyle and Marie were young, brave and very much in love. Albrecht told them he had need of this room, they were released for the night. The pair hurried to collect and secure their gear. "Don't bother. The night is young, children. Enjoy it." Not needing to be told twice, Marie, who wore the pants in this damn relationship (thank you very much) took her beloved by the hand and bolted down the stairs.

Xander wouldn't be surprised to find silver bullets in some of the clips still lying in neat stacks by the observers position.

As soon as they were alone Jonas let out a long sigh. "So tell me your proposal Xander. Here. And only here. Where no one else is going to hear it."

"Why so secretive?" Xander replied "What about what I have to say is that dangerous?"

"Everything about what you have to say is dangerous. But not for me." The older werewolf's features softened for the first time that night. "So tell me, my boy. What's on your mind."

"Last night I saw someone from my old life. A slayer. Last night she broke into one of the Wyrm's buisnesses, killed one of it's warriors. I think she needs a little backup. She nearly got taken down by a Chaos Mage."

"Ah. Back up. I believe the term that I heard was 'old lay.'"

"It's not that simple." Xander said through a grimace. He was almost growling.

"Then tell me."

"I heard about what happened five years ago. The battle that began in L. A. spread and became a war. Stirred frenzy in all the forces of the Wyrm. Back then they were calling it the apocalypse. Our ranks were thinned. But we beat them back. But what happened to us?"

"Be careful, Xander. That's very unstable ground to be treading on."

"I'll tell you what happened!" Xander roared back in reply "We hide. 'We recover our strength.' How long have I watched that factory? How long with out lifting a some much as one claw? In the last year how many of our enemies have I killed that wasn't to defend our territory? Then we have a Slayer, one woman, who in one night did more than I did in two weeks, and we won't even back her up? In Gaia's name, no wonder the Get of Fenris left the Nation!"

A long moment passed as the two men stood nearly toe-to-toe. All at once Xander seemed to snap out of reverie and realize the insult he'd just given his king. Albrecht was a good king. Sometimes his sole motivation seemed to be the well being of his lands. A heavy burden as they encompassed all of North America.

Furthermore, Albrecht could understand his younger counterpart's position. The relative peace of these past few years chafed at Ahroun's, warriors among a race of warriors. The King understood why Xander, an Ahroun, was so angry. The more experienced knew because he was one.

And to top it all off this insult was paid him by a man he'd taken in and mentored as his own son.

It was a credit to his character that he didn't roar back and put his pup in his place. Instead he merely sighed once more and motioned Xander nearer to one of the windows. "What do you see down there? Look closely, now."

Down in the field below Xander could see Mari Cabrah gathering the tools she used in her garden. A Latino woman aging gracefully, a warrior for gaia, with a soft spot for children, and Xander knew first hand from when she'd taught him the ways of the spirit she would have made a fine…

…Mother.

And all at once he realized why Albrecht had pointed her out.

"You know what the life of a Garou is? It's not the pursuit of power as the Shadowlords who constantly nip at our heels would have you believe. And it's not war, like the Fenrir shout to everyone in earshot."

The long-suffering king stood next to Xander at the window now. "Our life is sacrifice… giving up everything we truly hold dear, to ensure all those who will never know we exist, never face what we face."

"The metis. The foul, malformed offspring of when two Garou mate. In most tribes now they treated properly. But the parents… That hasn't changed. It's the parents who violate Gaia's law. And they are outcast."

"I love her, Xander. I've known since just after the near-apocalypse. And she loves me as well. But we can never be together." Albrecht turned to look at Xander with a grimace on his face. "Do you know what would happen to the Nation if a Metis were born to a respected Black Fury elder and the Nation's King? As fragile as it is now? Were I still a Ronin I would be sorely tempted…."

"But I'm not a Ronin. I'm the damned king."

"You won't get it now, but you'll understand soon. We can't always get what we want. That's part of the reason we've both taken you under our wing as we have." Xander stood speechless. "During your training. It's almost like we've been raising you as our own…"

For one hour each night, King Jonas Albrecht sat upon a throne grown from an oak. It was 'a natural occurance' the compound had been built around it. While he sat on the throne, anyone could come to him and have an audience.

He received the odd hero asking assistence with a particularly nasty wyrm beast, as well as the occasional ragabash who thought the king needed a good joke. (Usually at the king's expense.) And this night he hoped against hope that one particular werewolf wouldn't show.

To his right sat Mari Cabrah, receptive to his mood as always. Throughout the hour he'd felt her hand on his arm, her attempt to soothe him. To his left stood Evan Heals-the-Past, his Philodox law speaker, who'd toward the end of the hour decided that he'd had enough sitting for one night.

In the last two minutes of the eleventh hour Xander made his entrance.

Jonas Albrecht sighed, and resigned himself to what was to come.

Evan Heals-the-Past returned to his seat. "Who addresses the court?" As informal as King Albrecht court may be, there were still rituals to be observed. "Who seeks council with the king?"

Evan Heals-the-Past damn well knew who Xander was. He'd had a hand in training Xander as well. It had been Evan who had taught Xander the rules and etiquette of Gaian society in the frozen north. At the end of three weeks he had been able to recite the Litany of the werewolves while seated indian style in a snow drift.

"I am Alexander Harris, the Bane to Banes. Tribesman of the Silver Fang tribe, an Ahroun of house Wyrmfoe. In the direct service of my King, in the North Country Protectorate. Of my lineage, I know nothing."

"Approach, Warrior, and we may get under way." Xander came to kneel on one knee before the king. Looking him in the eyes, but exposing his throat in supplication.

All through the forest 'throne room' eyes fell upon him. The collection of Garou and Kinfolk that dotted the clearing evidently picking up on the mood.

"I come before you, my lord, with a matter of utmost urgency."

From the seat to the right of the oak throne Mari Cabrah leaned forward. "Speak freely Xander. You're with friends here."

Mari had taught Xander the ways of Spirit. For days at a time she'd guided him through the Umbra, showed him it's hidden paths, the quirks of it's inhabitants. By the end he had impressed many spirits and gained many mystical gifts. He could also cross over to the spirit world easier than most any Ahroun had a right to.

More so, of all those he'd met in the last year, the friends he'd made: none had smoothed his transition from demon hunter to savage werewolf warrior more. A task Albrecht himself had been inept with.

"Last night I witnessed a human warrior, one of the Slayers, break into one of the Wyrm's stronghold's and kill a Black Spiral Dancer. Our numbers are at an all-time low. We are need of allies, a slayer would make a good one I think. But if we wait too long she may well die before she is of any use. She needs our help."

"I know what you're talking about Xander," Albrecht rose from his seat and motioned Xander to rise to his feet. "And the answer is still no."

Albrecht had taught Xander how to fight as a Garou. Pack tactics, brawling with talons and jaws, klaives, everything. With formal training Xander had become a far more formidible opponent than ever before. They'd reached an understanding only two warriors can get when they fought each other with tooth and claw, which in retrospect made sense.

Albrecht and Mari had fought each other many times.

"Then I must apolgize my lord…"

Evan had taught him the rules of his new world and Mari had eased him into it.

"…But I cannot let that stand…"

But Albrecht had taught him, first and foremost…

"…I challenge you for the right to protect her."

…to fight.

"Absolutely not!" Mari was on her feet in moments.

"Xander you are too low in rank, you can't possibly challenge the king. You wouldn't stand a chance." Evan had tried a different, more reasonable tactic.

The Garou throughout the clearing were all but howling in outrage. To see one so low, no matter his potential, challenge the King was a grave insult.

"And yet I challenge all the same."

"Jonas," Mari was going to try one last gamble "you can stop this. Please… don't do this!"

"A challenge has been issued. And it can't be ignored." King Albrecht turned his glare on Xander. "Do you want to take it back? After this there is no going back."

"I'm sure."

"Challenge accepted." The king stood to full height. Full height. In the war form Albrecht stood at a little over nine feet tall. His lupine features were grim as he drew his grand-klaive, the solemn lord. It's massive silver blade gleamed silver in the moonlight. With a snarl he turned the blade to the ground and thrust the blade into the earth in front of him. This was a significant act.

For him not to involve the solemn lord meant that Albrecht at least intended to let Xander live, Klaive-duels always ended in death.

Xander had little time to consider this: His mentor released the hilt of the blade tilted his head back and roared with all the force his lungs could muster.

When he charged Xander barely had time to change before the King of Wolves was upon him.

A/N: There will be much, much more actiorn next chapter.

Also, the word count of this story came out to 5,666... so i'm adding this note.


	12. Fathers pt2

Author:Heathen92

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Feedback: I need it now more than ever.

A/N: I don't think anyone here can geuss how this is gonna turn out.

1

Xander's body swelled to it's werewolf bulk just as Albrecht reached him, his mentor a frenzied killing machine of fangs and claws. The smaller man was much too late. In a flash the king had his warrior on the ground. The two struggled on the ground for a long minute while Albrecht viciously pummeled his opponent.

In desperation Xander lashed out with one of the gifts the spirit world had given him, a weak blow hurtled his assailant through the air away from him. To Xander's dismay Albrecht twisted in mid-air to land on both paws a mere twenty feet away. Getting up the battered werewolf took stock of the injuries he already had this early in the battle.

He was relatively lucky, in a clinch like that Albrecht could have easily ended the duel right then and there. Instead Xander had gotten away with a few scrapes and a lot of bruising.

Albrecht snarled and made a terrifying display with his claws, working them around and clashing them together. Xander made no threats.

He charged.

2

Giles was silent a long time after Faith had finished her story. Eventually he let out a long sigh. Faith was worried. Xander had been one of the original four scoobies, and his sudden and mostly unexplained disappearence had been the last devestating blow to the gang. Probably why they'd cast adrift across continents, when they should be living side by side. And now to discover he's resurfaced after all these years only to change into a monster and disappear again? How would the old man take that? _Could_ the old man take that?

While these thoughts were turning through Faith's mind Giles did something that was somehow very reassuring.

The old watcher took his glasses off and cleaned then with a small felt cloth. "So, you mean to tell me that Xander has become one of them."

Faith had a feeling that Giles would handle everything just fine.

"That's it in a nut shell, dad." Giles smirked over his tea at when his slayer called him dad.

"Well, where do you suppose we should go from here?"

Faith took a notepad from the coffee table and laid it out before her older guest. "Nathan got me a few leads on the people I saw take him. We can't be sure if he busted out or what happened to him in the last six months. But I figure the best bet is to go after pentex and see if they still have a record. That's what I was doing last night when that mage attacked me."

"Nathan. The gunsmith, correct?" Faith answered in the affirmative. "I should very much like to meet with him."

"Address is right here, But I've got to go to work tomorrow. I don't think he's gonna like it if you pop by asking questions out of the blue. And besides, he is surrounded by guns twenty-four seven."

"You can write me a note."

Faith grinned at her watcher's bravado. She'd almost forgotten what it was like to fight the good fight alongside friends. "Ha. Ha. Your funeral. I don't think he'll actually shoot you, but don't expect him to talk."

3

As the minutes passed the fight continued.

The silver-furred werewolves met, tore into eachother, and parted. Each constantly circling their opponent. Searching for a weakness, an opening, anything to tip the scales in their favor.

The throne room in the forest clearing was now ringed with spectators.

Young Garou around the clearing could barely contain their excitement. Challenges were a common occurrence, but this was a rare display of power from their king. A few of them who had become resentful of Xander's meteoric rise bayed for his blood, eager to see him fall. Toby Runs-like-Hell watched on sorrowfully. This was one of the few true friends he had here.

Older, more experienced Garou found a more solemn mood cast over them. To them it was unthinkable that one so young would challenge the king. Claudia Stands-Firm, a veteren of the near-apocalypse had seen the King standing alone amongst a churning mass of wyrm-creatures. His blade had flashed, his jaws snapped, and he'd been almost untouchable as he cut them down by the dozens.

He was holding back.

The kinfolk gathered at the outskirts of the group. To them such vicious combat was horrifying in the extreme. Kyle and Marie, a kinfolk sniper team and personal friends of Xander, sat furthest from the battle, wearing melancholy expressions. Albrecht had saved them once and they had seen him fight. They knew this could only end in Xander's death.

Not one to surrender to fate, Xander called upon a gift given him by a wolf spirit. His claws grew longer and sharper. With a snarl he slashed a livid wound into his king's chest. As Albrecht howled Xander brought his talon back up, knocking him to his back.

Baying to the moon Xander roared and charged the king's prone form.

4

The night passed pleasantly for Giles and Faith. After so long they had much to catch up on. It felt good. Like a family reunion.

That's what the scooby gang had been at the end of day. A family. Initially that had chafed at her. She'd always been an outsider, and she'd sneered and railed against the closeness they shared. Then after Sunnydale she'd been invited in.

"Giles are you going to be okay on the couch? I could always…"

"Give me the bed? Not bloody likely. You're in bad shape, you take the bed." With that the englishman stretched out and pulled a blanket over himself.

Faith smiled. It felt good to be with family. "Night, then."

Giles sat up before she could go. "Faith, do you have a moment?" She turned to him. "Why are you still looking for him? You saw him a few times after years, and now you haven't seen him for a year. Why are you so driven."

Faith was silent as she came closer, sitting across from him. "Did you know I was his first?"

"Yes. As I recall he wanted to try and talk to you after Mr. Finch's death, and then… oh."

"Yeah. He was the first person to try and help me. And when I choked him, betrayed him, do you know what I saw? Hurt, pity. He wasn't even angry. And do you remember the reception I got when I came back to help out? The first thing _he_ said to me then?" A smile began to tug at the corner of her mouth. "'Omelet? I make'em with three kinds of _cheeese_…"

5

On his feet again Albrecht took the effort to work human words from his lupine jaws. "Going… Finish this… now." And he struck with everything he had.

Fighting with Albrecht became unreal. There was now no holding back now. Every one of Xander's attacks was blocked and countered, every blow found it's way through his defense. The king was overpowering him, all but blinding him with speed, and taking what few hits Xander could get in like they were nothing. Xander began to panic as he realised his mistake.

He never even seen the full extent of Albrecht abilities, might not even be seeing them now. Xander finally realized the extent to which Albrecht had held back during their sparring sessions.

Xander realized that he was going to lose. His life was going to be in Albrecht's hands. But he would not go quietly. If he was going to die tonight, which he was, he would take a piece of his killer with him.

For several long moments the fight continued. Xander was forced backwards inch by inch as he grew more desperate and daring trying to survive King Albrecht's onslaught.

With one last snarl the king seized Xander by the throat, bending his head backward. A duel between Garou could only be settled one of two ways. Death or submission. And now his vulnerable throat was bared to his mentors teeth.

The duel was over.

6

In human form Xander stood swaying but on his feet before the throne. The king sat before him ready to pass judgment. But first he addressed the assembled werewolves.

"Tonight I spoke with Xander on this very matter. His intentions were good and honourable, an alliance with the Slayers, already enemies of our enemies would be a much needed advantage in our war."

"But if they were to decide not to ally with us, and learned of our existance they would undoubtably turn on us. And I will not see another enemy added to our long list." He stood now and moved purposefully towards Xander.

"The sentence for one so young challenging and failing against a King is, traditionally and uniformly, death."

"But we all know I care very little for wasteful traditions: Alexander, Bane of Banes, my tribemate, Ahroun in the service of my House. I hereby banish you from my lands. You have two days." Albrecht stood mere inches in front of Xander.

In a whisper meant for Xander alone Albrecht continued his speech. "I spoke of reponsibility earlier. The weight service to a tribe imposes. Ronins, for all the humiliation, have no such weight."

Realization dawned on Xander as he realized what the king was doing. "If I were a ronin…" he began.

"…I would be sorely tempted." The king finished

And finally Xander fell backwards, unconcscious. A silence settled for a long moment. It ended finally as the Get of Fenris Garou Runs-like-Hell left the crowd to stand by his friend. He was followed closely by two kinfolk, a sniper team. "Who will help me carry him?"

There was no shortage of volunteers.

A/N-1: After being on a collision course for so long Faith and Xander are finally set to meet again.

A/N-2: I think that was simply the best way to go with this. As formidible as Xander was and as much as he's grown even stronger since changing, there's always a bigger wolf. A dignified failure makes him a better, more human character. Essential since I've turned him into a raging nine foot tall werewolf.


	13. Reunion

Author: Heathen92

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: This turned out to be longer than I thought…

1

Faith was lucky. She actually _liked_ her job. Liked it so much she actually didn't mind getting up in the morning.

She was a secretary. Not the most respected job title in the world but someone had to do it. And it's not like she could juggle a more rewarding career with being a slayer. She knew she could get a better job, so why get hung up?

Typing at 100 words a minute and never, ever seeming to get tired meant she'd quickly got a desk at the top of her building. Working under the big boss had its perks, notably a great view of manhatten.

Faith got to her desk to find it already occupied. A temp worker. She hoped. "Faith Gainsborough? Mr. Rodewald wants to see you." Hope seemed to dim a little.

2

Jason Rodewald was CEO of Microsoft Game Studios, answering to Bill Gates himself. The tall, thin, balding man in his early sixties had reached his loftly position on the only route to lasting power: Hard work and morality.

For years the man had slowly and steadily risen in the managerial ranks, working long hours, keeping honest books, and still making time for his family. Faith always enjoyed walking into his office, in lieu of corporate chic Mr. Rodewald had toys. Lots of toys. One corner of he room was dominated by a six foot tall 'giant robot' from the Mechwarrior games, his family photos were guarded by a troop of centurions from Age of Empires, not to mention the lego Sim City.

"Faith please have a seat." He indictated one of the chairs opposite of him. They were both exactly the same as his own chair. "First off, your not in trouble. Well you are in trouble, but not with me." In someways he reminded Faith of the Mayor Wilkins. Except minus the evil.

"Then who am I in trouble with?"

Rodewald frowned. It couldn't have been a very comfortable expression. "I was hoping you could tell me."

"So you don't care about the unexpected day off?"

"Well, please. After three years working here you've never gotten sick. In the year and odd months you've worked for me you've never even taken a day off. Hell if we were in a pharmacutical company you'd be in the lab," here boss gave her an accusing but good natured point of the finger "since the cure for cancer's got to be in there somewhere."

"Oh well that's a comforting thought."

"Alright maybe the lab analogy wasn't ideal, but the point is I'm not talking about you getting sick. For the last few months you've been obviously distracted. I hear you don't get as much sleep as you used to and now this." He gestured at her again.

"Now what? What wrong with me?"

"Too be honest, you look like you've been through hell. If anything I want you take at least a few more days. In fact take more than that. Don't worry about your job. Even with the quality of your work declining your still twice as good as anyone you could be replaced with. So go on a two week vacation. Paid vacation. So you have no choice but to have a little fun."

"I have fun! Seriously. I don't need any… Wait. Why am I arguing with you?"

"See? You've become a workaholic at the ripe old age of what? Thirty? Thirty-one?"

"Twenty-seven." Faith huffed

Then she considered. Her boss was pretty generous with compliments. For him to say she looked thirty probably meant everyone else thought she looked thirty-five. Did she really look that old?

"Faith, I learned a long time a go that a successful life wasn't worth living if, well… you don't live it. Take two weeks."

3

Two weeks. Faith knew that after a year of searching she wouldn't suddenly find Xander. She'd spend the next two weeks with Giles. Maybe she'd visit Dawn at Harvard.

She just had to head to the accountants office on the tenth floor and pick up a CD she'd let a friend borrow. That's all.

But as the doors opened her day got a lot more complicated.

Smiling in front of her stood the Magus of two nights before. "Hello cutie." Reacting quickly Faith hit the button to close the doors, the Magus didn't make a move. The door shut. The slayer breathed a sigh of relief and started to climb up to the maintainence hatch.

The sound of wrenching metal called her attention back down.

The Magus's arm stretched across the small elevator to grab Faith's waist, hauling her out of the elevator and tossing her violently away.

The Slayer skidded to a stop twenty yards down the hallway, she instantly got to her feet and ran.

4

Xander walked the streets of New York, waiting for inspirtation to strike. His body still ached from his duel with Albrecht.

It was all well and good to have his little stand-off except for the simple fact that he hadn't a clue where Faith was. He couldn't well look her up in the phone book. Slayers were generally unlisted. So he was reduced to pounding the pavement, hoping for some clue or some bright idea. Later tonight he might hit up Willy's bar. 'Hit up' was the key phrase.

The werewolf began to get the ominous feeling of being watched. He began to zig and zag through the city. Taking random turns, moving through parking garages and alleyways, and still he felt pursued. Finally he tried a different tack. Selecting an alleyway that afforded an amount of privacy, Xander sat on a pile of emptied crates and waited. He hoped who ever was following him took the bait.

He was not disappointed. After fifteen minutes a raven fluttered into the alleyway, perching atop the dumpster opposite him. The bird regarded him in the blank curiosity of a bird's stare. Xander leaned forward and sniffed at it, "So bird, why have you been following me?"

The bird's form grew hazy and indistinct, taking on more mass by the second. Within the space of seven seconds the bird was gone and replaced with a petite blonde girl wearing a 'I heart bird-baths' T-Shirt. "You're looking for someone I've been watching. And she's looking for you."

"The thing is: there are also a lot of Wyrm-tainted creatures gunning for her, you saw one of them last night. So my conundrum is this: I can't fight. Not the things she goes against. Hell, one time I took on a just plain average joe human in a bar fight and got my ass kicked. So I figure if I lead a big, tough, Garou like you to her I won't have to worry about it." The girl took a deep breath after finishing. She was obviously nervous.

Xander kept staring at her. "What? What's up? Why are you staring at me?"

Xander's features softened minutely. "Heidi?"

"H-how do you know my name." The mention of her name did nothing to ease the girl away from a flight or fight response.

"Do you remember mine?"

"Uhh… no…"

"Do you remember Hyenas?"

Realization struck her with force of a hammer blow. "Oh. My. God." Heidi had been one of the Hyena-people in Xander's pack. Had the spell not been reversed she would have become his mate, the female alpha. It obviously wasn't a happy memory. "I'm outta here." She then hopped off the dumpster and tried to run away. Xander didn't let her.

He held the frightened girl as gently but firmly as he possibly could. To gain her trust he would be as passively intimidating as possible, show her the scars of his hunt. But he would remind her of the person he really was with his words.

As she watched he reached into his left eye socket, plucking out his prosthetic. She struggled harder against him, more frightened now seeing his deformity in plain view. She might as well have tried to break handcuffs. When he spoke he spoke to her with his socket and eye staring a hole in her. "Heidi, you don't know me."

"You don't know what I've been doing for the last thirteen years. I've been waging a constant war against the forces of the Wyrm in one way or another for a very long time. You can see the worst of my scars, they didn't stop me. Since I was fifteen I've been fighting."

Xander drew back a bit and gave Heidi a bit more room to breathe. "But that doesn't mean all that much in the end. You weren't there for any of that, so I might as well be making it up. Maybe I lost my eye in a B.B. gun accident; 'You'll shoot your eye out kid.'"

Heidi stopped struggling and he let her go as he continued. "How much do you remember about being a hyena? Do remember what Tor did? I seem to remember him trying to take you as his own. I stopped him. Tore him off of you, and did he do it again?"

"No."

"I saved you from being raped before. Trust me now." Xander put his eye back in.

"She works at Microsoft Game Studios, in manhatten. I can take you."

"Thank you." The pair walked side by side on their way to a subway that would take them to manhatten. After fifteen minutes Xander gave voice to a question turning over in his mind since he saw her again. "Heidi, would you tell me about your first time?"

"Well…"

5

Nine years ago Heidi was seventeen. Just a few months after her possession she'd drifted from the members of the pack. She had new friends, a new life almost.

One Saturday she'd woken up with a strange feeling, like her skin was two sizes too small. Heidi stayed in that night pacing her house for hours, when finally she began to feel trapped in a prison she couldn't escape from. The girl paniced and eventually curled into the fetal position on her bed.

The girl cried out as she tried to compress her body further and further. The girl screamed at the sensation running through her body, like her skin was on fire and peeling away.

In a flutter of wings the feeling left. Confusion struck the fledgling raven as she sat on her bed. The bird hopped around for a few moments in it's new body. In hesitation she jumped off the bed, taking wing awkardly.

After a few short minutes she gloried in the pleasures of flight as she flew in uneven circles around her room. Wanting more, she angled to her bedroom window seeking even more freedom. She swooped down towards the outside…

And ran head first into a pane of glass.

The teen fell backwards in her nude human form clutching at her forehead. "Oww… Crap…"

6

"I see…" Xander took in the story and gave his assessment. "…happens to just about everyone their first time."

"What they get stupid?" Heidi threw him an incredulous look.

"No…" her companion sighed "For some reason we're always naked that first time."

7

At mid-morning the sun hit Nathan Radley's Gun Shoppe in just the right way.

Radley had his display and shop on the first floor, as average and everyday looking as any store exclusively devoted to the sale of deadly weapons could be. The basement where he did most of his work was a different story altogether. It ran the entire length and breadth of the store in dimensions and was also furnished with assorted stool, tool closets, and long metal tables for maintainence or _special_ projects.

Also running the length of the building were basement windows. Their stained glass dipicting the rise, fall, and many victories of various saints and warriors. The sun hit the windows on the east side, which reflected light to the west, causing all the windows in the building to shine with in a divine gleam. The reflection cast a rainbow tapestry of light throughout the room. Everywhere there was an image of martyrdom and heroism to bolster the faithful.

Usually the sight brought a small joy to Nathan's heart. Today, though, his heart was too troubled to be brought joy by a few pieces of colored glass. There was a deep frown on his face as he went about his buisness. The man's semi-long gray hair was tied back when he came down in the basement.

Faith didn't know it but she'd almost died last night. He was playing with her. For her own good, true, but he was still playing. He was debating telling her everything when an uninvited guest dropped in.

An englishmen. The man was younger than Radley, dressed in casual clothing with small rounded spectacles sitting on his nose. He introduced himself as Rupert Giles, he was Faith's…

"You're her father."

"What?"

"Not the way she tells it. Never actually said it, but you can tell. From what I understand you're also her watcher."

"Well then," Giles took off his glasses and cleaned them slowly with a cloth. "I suppose it's good to clear the air. I came here to see you for myself if you've been working with Faith. I thought we might also pool our information on Lupines."

"What exactly do you want to know?" The silence that followed poured on thicker than concrete. The two men measured each other for one tense minute.

"My first inquiry is…" Giles flexed his right hand, Radley noticed. "…are you one of them?"

What followed was a blur of motion as each man drew on the other, Radley a second behind Giles.

"You're good, Mr. Giles. How'd you know?"

"Met one in the seventies."

"Ah."

8

The next thirty minutes passed with uneasy concessions made between the two.

"Yes, I have silver bullets." "I have hollow points." "Are you evil?" "Are you?"

An uneasy truce was made as both took a seat, weapons still trained on each other. "You know I had a bead first?"

"Not the first time someone half my age has beat my be half a second."

"Here's what I want to know. Why would you hide it? Faith knows that Xander is a Lupine and doesn't want to kill him, she wouldn't kill you. So what do you have to hide?"

"That situation is… fluid. I can't just come out and tell her. If I were to give her the exact wherabouts of your friend she'd go rushing to meet him. In the midst of all the other big dogs. Bad idea. What do you think would happen to her, him and even me, then?"

"I'll concede that point, at least."

"Good man. But I haven't been completely jerking her around. I've been giving her tips from all my 'contacts' to put her in areas your boy's likely to be. She'll run into him sooner or later."

"Ah. Not to sound to melodramatic, but what's in it for you?"

"Simple, my people need allies. But the ones in charge are too damn stubborn. I figured I might trick'em."

"And one last obvious question. This has been easy. Too easy. Why?"

"'Cause you were going to find out soon anyway. My plan to get him to notice her went to well. He's on his way back to you."

9

The Magus hounded Faith with every step she took.

Her every turn was made just ahead of a storm of lead or a bolt of lightning.

She began to realize she was being herded.

10

Heidi had taken Xander to a slightly shorter building across from Microsoft Game Studios. She posted him there while she did a fly by to find out where she was in the building.

After ten minutes the raven came back, settling on the roof. The blonde girl rose and gave Xander very bad news. "She's being attacked already, they're heading for the…" Xander wasn't paying attention, he was looking at the other roof.

"She's on the roof."

11

Eventually they made it to the roof. Faith ran out to the edge, she wasn't sure which side she'd seen the scaffold on this morning.

It wasn't on her side.

She turned around to find the Magus standing in the doorway, smiling. He raised his weapon and fired.

Faith knew better than to dodge at this point. The bullet would follow if she tried to get out of the way. So she turned her right shoulder into the path of the round instead.

It struck her like a hammer-blow. She staggered back, and fell backwards over the ledge.

12

And Xander saw it all happen.

He broke into a run, changing to a wolf with no conscious thought. With no hesitation at all he leapt into the air between the two buildings, changing to his war form.

The added weight made him fall faster, giving him a chance of catching her.

13

Time slowed for Faith. She could trace the path of a drop of her own blood in the air as it left her wound.

The slayer didn't scream as she entered freefall. She could only feel a slight regret.

And out of nowhere she found hope.

A silver-furred talon wrapped around her waist. Faith looked around, her eyes widened in wonder at her savior, a large werewolf with an empty left eye socket. It's free talon dug into the glass side of the building, barely slowing their descent. The beast wasn't looking at her, it was staring at it's reflection in the shattering glass.

The world around her grew hazy and indistinct. With a gut wrenching sensation her perspective shifted.

Suddenly all the building's were covered in iridescent webs tended by spiders of steel. One strand of webs snapped off in the wolf's grip.

Swinging the wolf crashed through one of the windows into a room that had no walls. Faith's mind reeled as one of the spiders came entered only to be knocked back out the window by the wolf. The spider made no sound. Instead of flailing it's limbs only one of it's many legs struck out and found purchase in the building. It began to pull itself back in.

The wolf reached out and touched her, and the world shifted again, this time becoming normal. Faith turned over and emptied out the contents of her stomach.

Across from her Xander sat panting, a glass eye in his socket.

"I can't believe that worked."

A/N: Together again…


	14. Old Friends

Title: Claws & Chaos: Old friends

Author: Heathen92…

Disclaimer: …who owns nothing.

Feedback: First off I'd like to thank everyone who already has, cause that's the only thing that's kept this train wreck going this long. And second I'd like to encourage more of it because I frick'in_ need_ it!

Summary: Xander and Faith meet again on the east coast. Xander goes through a few changes. Set in five years after chosen and crossover with Werewolf: the Apocalypse.

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update this. Real life doesn't leave me much time anymore.

1

Xander spent several moments seated on the floor, taking a moment to watch as the damage he'd done in the spirit world caught up with the materiel. He'd vanished from the physical world four stories above, the rents his talons had gouged in the building cutting off abruptly.

One minute after Xander had come back the glass began to crack and shatter. It happened slowly, and leading a few inches before the fringe of breaking glass panes claw marks appeared.

As the spirit world suffered so to did the physical world.

And speaking of the physical…

"Faith are you alright? Are you hurt?" He shouldn't have needed to even ask, he could see the blood spreading from the tear in her blouse. Xander was really asking permission to help.

…Above them the Magus left the roof and began vaulting down the stairs.

He got it. "It's my shoulder." Permission granted, Xander quickly but carefully striped off her shirt. Exposing the injury clamped his hand down around the the bullet hole, still gushing blood. She was lucky: the bullet hadn't hit bone, instead the small caliber round had lodged in the muscle. Nothing fatal. Except the injury would slow them down. That would be lethal as hell.

…The Magus landed on floor nineteen.

More than likely they had better take the time take care of her or Xander would be on his own if they needed to fight. He stripped off his belt, folding it over twice. Faith accepted it without a word, she knew what was coming.

…The Magus landed on floor eighteen.

Faith put the belt in her mouth. Xander knelt over her. Their left hands interlaced "Are you ready?" She shook her head and bit down on the brown leather between her teeth. White hot pain followed as his right hand stabbed into her wound.

…The Magus landed on floor seventeen.

Faith wimpered as his fingers worked in the cavity in her shoulder. For his part Xander grunted as the fingers in his cracked and broke. His questing digits finally closed on something metal.

…The Magus landed on floor sixteen. Their floor.

The bullet clattered to the ground. The hand returned to her flesh, and Faith's breath slowed and relaxed, the pain faded as Xander worked Gaia's magic into her torn muscle and tissue. When his hand withdrew a livid scar was left behind.

…Standing outside the very room Xander and Faith occupied the Magus readied his weapon.

She put her bloody shirt back on. Standing, Xander considered his badly mangled hand. His lips drew back in a snarl. The hand cracked and popped back into it's proper form. Slowly the werewolf flexed his hand before making a fist. He'd heard the unmistakable sound of a clip being pressed home and a slide racked.

Even as the Magus drew back to kick in the door a silver furred talon burst through the door. Grabbing him it brought him through the door. He caught a glimpse of the girl before he went out the window.

2

Sixteen stories.

Sixteen stories he fell. The force of Xander's throw had sent him across the street. The Magus landed on top of a parked car the car crumpled and folded around him. In the distance he could hear an ambulance. He could feel blood oozing from every part of his chest and arms and head. Yet not from his legs.

Those he could not feel at all.

3

Hours later they were sitting in Faith's apartment. Xander and Giles sat across from each other for the first time in six years. Xander tapped his foot. Giles cleaned his glasses. Faith was in the shower. There wasn't much conversation.

Xander considered the man he'd once known. He wondered how much the englishmen had changed. He wondered if Giles would call Buffy down to try and bring him to heel. He wondered why that bothered him.

Giles put his glasses back on. The boy he'd watched grow up had some how become the man before him in just six short years. He looked over Xander. His face neutral and his gaze steady, piercing. His practiced hands rested ready on his knees. The fore-finger of both hands were callused. They'd been seared on his guns.

Faith finished in the shower and came out wrapped in a towel. On her way to the bedroom for a fresh set of clothes she took in the situation. She was pretty sure that a water bottle would freeze if she threw one in between the two men. Soon enough she emerged dressed in jeans and a Slayer concert shirt.

"So." Xander began. The awkward silence held. He hadn't seen Faith in one year, and hadn't had an actual sit down talk with either of them in six.

"So what?" Faith replied defensively. This man had made her feel welcome when she hadn't deserved half a decade. She'd spent a year trying to find him. It was a little disapointing to find him this closed off.

It was Giles's turn to speak. "She's been looking for you for a long time, Xander."

"Thanks." Xander said flatly.

Faith flinched like he'd smacked her. "What the hell is this? What's your damn problem? What the hell happened to make you like this? Ever since Sunnydale you've been treating your friends- your _friends_- like trash! Why?" The man's chocalate eyes regarded her with perfect tranquility: Xander was really good at poker. "Why the hell don't you say something!" Faith was almost screaming at him.

His eyes were perfectly level, his voice steady and cold. "I left Sunnydale behind. And everything in it."

Faith crossed over to him bending forward and moving her face a foot from his. "Goddamn you." And she slapped him. Xander's head turned from the blow. His expression hadn't changed when he turned his face back.

"I can get this elsewhere." He got up to leave. As he reached for his coat Faith voice was much softer. Maybe softer than he'd ever heard it.

"You keep disappearing. Now you think you're going to come back, save my life, and take off again in three short hours."

"Exactly." And he turned to do just that. It wasn't Faith's voice that stopped him.

"No I don't think you're going to do that." The englishmen's voice was conversational. He spoke in the matter-of-fact way in which he would tell a child that the sky was blue and the grass was green.

But Xander stopped. "What the hell do you know?"

"Less and less by the minute it seems like these days. But I do know you. I don't know why you're trying to pull the proverbial wool over us, but you care. I also happen to know what you did so you could get where you are right now."

"Do you?"

"I do." Giles's manner was not agitated or soothing. He was explaining the facts of life.

"I somehow doubt that." Xander retorted in the same voice he'd kept since he rescued Faith. But somehow he didn't seem so sure.

"I know that you went against the leader of your group, since the name I heard was 'the king of wolves' and wolves, and I imagine werewolves as well, are terriorial creatures I rather think one with a claim to a title such as that is not one to trifle with lightly. I have also learned that said king was of personal significance to you and your new life, persona, calling or whatever you wish to call it. You have nowhere else to go, you chose us then, giving up what was undoubtably a very advantageous position." Giles took a pause to sip from his tea.

"Mostly I just saw the look on your face when Faith came out of the shower. It wasn't lust. You were concerned, you see. Her wound was showing, and you let your guard down."

Xander took a deep breath, exhaling in a sigh. For the first time since Faith had met him again his voice was soft. "You got me there, G-man."

3

He hadn't told them everything. That he could not do. He'd told them enough, though.

They knew what he was: no mere werewolf. A Garou, part man, part wolf, part spirit. They knew that he served the Gaia. Mother nature. He explained the Gaian way of life as best he could in a way they would understand. They learned about the trouble with pentex. He told them what he could do, what the spirit world really was.

He didn't tell them any names or locations. He didn't tell him of the tribes and their totems. None of the Garou's tactics were shared.

Most significantly he never told them why he left. Why he didn't want to see anyone from the old days.

4

"So what are we going to do now?" Faith had hit the current nail right on the head.

"I haven't a clue. I don't do well with plans unless I have a specific objective in mind." Xander's life hadn't exactly required long term while he lived as a transient.

"We'll have to wait and see I suppose." Giles was always the most level headed of the scooby gang.

"How long can you stay?" Faith's question wasn't for Xander. It had been established that he wasn't going anywhere. Giles however… "I know you have a lot to worry about back home."

Xander interrupted "That reminds me. Giles, I need a favor."

"What's that?"

"I would appreciate it if Buffy didn't know about me."

"I would agree, actually." From the looks the two younger people in the room were giving him, he knew he had explaining to do. "I'm no longer with the council. I was forced to resign."

"What the hell, why didn't you tell me?" he'd been there for two days, and Faith wanted an explanation.

"Buffy's in charge now. And she's changed. The theory would be that a Slayer needs a support of family and friends to stay alive as long as she has. Who better to fill that role than another slayer? One that that is much stronger and more likely to survive than an ordinary human?"

Xander shook his head "Cutting a slayer off from the reason she fights in the first place. Not smart."

"You're here to stay?"

"That I am Faith, that I am. I didn't want to be a party to such foolishness, and Buffy couldn't be convinced…"

4

Much as Xander had wanted to spend the day with them after so long, and he realised now he did want it, there were things he had to do before he fully returned to the human world. Something he had to see.

That night found Xander making a bee-line the North country protectorate. He had to see what his bretheren would do if he tried to return.

Four miles from his destination he got his answer: a pack of five wolves set on him from his right flank. There were no words, seeing the battle-lust in their faces as they closed on him left no room for debate. He stopped in his tracks and grew. His war-forms's lupine head tilted back and howled his challenge.

The apparent leader of the pack was familiar to Xander, and he darted forward first. Xander's claws flashed out, rending flesh from the Garou's chest and flinging him away. Removing the pack leader had caused a moment of confusion and indecision. The outcast werewolf capitalized. He struck out with quickly bellowing with rage. It helped for a little while.

He managed to take two of the five before the leader rejoined the fray. One had been slashed heavily across the face and had limped off blinded by it's own blood. A huge gash to a leg had opened up arteries to another: not fatal in a Garou, but he wouldn't give Xander much more trouble.

But he couldn't avoid the inevitible. The leader had been caught by surprise, but he was good. Xander should know, he'd fought alongside him. The pack leader managed to redirect one of Xander's blows, burying the ronin's talon deep in the earth. The half-second it took to wrench his paw free was all they needed.

The remaining three combatants piled on him. But he was an Ahroun, a warrior by birth. He didn't give up without a fight. He thrashed and bit and clawed at his assailants. One and even two at a time he would shake them off, but he never had the chance to fully recover.

Eventually the great wolf was forced, howling, to the ground.

5

Hours later Xander woke up bloodied, battered, but alive. He held no illusions as to why he was still alive. The leader of the pack had been Toby Runs-like-Hell, the others had been cubs he and Toby had trained together.

Xander grimaced as he picked himself up from the blood-stained forest floor and began the long trek back to his car.

6

Hours later he pulled into a roadside motel that took check-ins after midnight. It wouldn't make sense to get a rare moment of mercy from his people and then die falling asleep at the wheel. The place was a flea-bag, making it's money off of a conveinent location for weary travelers. It didn't even have rooms with one bed. It was too far away from anything to be rented by the hour.

On his way to his room he caught sight of her. Of all the places, he sees her here. His heart catches in his throat. A moment he both dreaded and yearned for.

She turns and her green eyes open wide in disbelief. She doesn't have any make-up on and her blonde locks have been tied back in a simple pony tail. But that just makes her more beautiful to his new eyes. She looks like she's about to cry. Like the girl doesn't see the dirt and grime and blood that covers him, that scared the hotel manager so badly.

She opens her mouth to speak, and she only says one thing: "What room are you in?" And too much has happened in the last week, too much turmoil and change and pain. He doesn't have the resolve to lie.

He showers and gets all the filth off his body. Xander knows he has to dress in fresh clothes before he gets out. And sure enough she's sitting on his bed when he gets out. He decides to sit on the bed across from her. She's the first to speak. "It's been so long…"

"I know Buffy, six long years…"

A/N-1: Duh-duh-dun-Duh-dun-dun-Dunnnn!

A/N-2: Pretty soon I'm going to reach a point in the story when I don't have a particular plot point to rush to. So who has requests for a crossover, tangent or whatever?


	15. Old Friends Pt2

Claws & Chaos: Old friends pt.2

By: Heathen92

Disclaimer: I own none of the intellectual properties in this story. I merely control the events. Sometimes.

Foreword: I've been away awhile haven't I?

1

Both the blonde and the one-eyed man are shell-shocked. It would have been a surprise for either of them if their meeting had been prearranged, happily planned out ahead of time. It was almost better this way. It was certainly more honest. He'd seen her without a woman's "face" on, seen her as she was. For her part, she'd seen him with his guard down. Battered and beaten, covered with the stink of blood and sweat.

He couldn't have guessed what might be going through her head. For him it was all coming back. Seven years of fighting and blood and terror and triumph. He was thinking of the good times, bad times, sad times, and those last few bitter days where he'd finally given up. Xander had lusted after her, fought with her, hated her… had loved her.

She couldn't have guessed what might be going through his head. Over the years since they'd met on the steps of Sunnydale High he'd come to represent so much to her. An everyman who fought just as hard as his super powered comrades. A kind friend if anyone needed it, sometimes even for enemies. Above all he stood for loyalty, the one who would never abandon her. But he did. Buffy still had feelings for him, feelings she would have explored in Europe had he stayed with her.

You _couldn't_ cut the tension between them, not even with a very sharp knife. Her hands move. They're soft on his skin. The small, steely digits are hurting him slightly. Her hand moves along slowly healing wounds. She asks the obvious question, the one he couldn't answer truthfully: "Who did this?" And one question that he wasn't even sure he knew the answer himself. His enemies? His people? His _species_? The ones who exiled him?

"My friends."

She pulls a face: "Your friend's did this?" She gets up and leaves, but only for a few minutes. She returns with gauze and alcohol, not the kind he favored. Not a word passes between them as she strips off his shirt. Minutes pass as she disinfects him, gently wiping down every cut and slash and scrape. She might not have bothered, the wounds from his brethren would take long to heal, but he didn't need to worry about infection.

Not anymore.

And finally they start to talk. "So, where have you been this whole time?"

"Everywhere… Every state but Hawaii, half of Canada, and a few months in Mexico and even further south. Fought the good fight. And how about you?"

"Less with the fighting. I train the slayers, none of them go into field after we find them until they get taught to fight by me." Her tone is a mix of a teacher and a mother talking about sacrifices made for a child. It was important to her. But for all it mattered to her, there was one thing that she might have gotten wrong.

"Buffy… I've heard rumors about your slayers. I've heard you have them separate from their families. Why?" Her hand stops. Xander knew he'd struck a soft spot. The legendary Slayer turned sad eyes on him.

"In the fight… We lost so many. Ms. Calender, Tara… Mom. I just don't want them to go through the same thing." Xander thought of Anya dead in the school basement and for one second the old anger came back.

"Buffy… People die all the time without anything supernatural. If you worry too much about them losing what they love they're never going to have it in the first place."

"I know Xander, but I don't think it's fair to bring others into a fight that doesn't belong to them. Like I did with you…" Xander tried to interject but she silenced him "…I know what you're going to say. Even if you wanted in the fight that doesn't really give me any right to push you in it like I did. And look at you now." Her hand traced a few of the wounds on his chest. Wounds that didn't have anything to do with her.

"It's all well and good to say that you never wanted to push any of us into the fight. Then again that ignores the fact that it was our choice. As I recall you and Giles both couldn't stop us from getting involved and after the first year you began to depend upon our help. So don't carry on like we were just along for the ride."

"And look where it got you: Willow nearly destroyed the world and you only have one damn eye." As she spoke the anger that was always just under the surface began to simmer.

"It's not so very much a disability as you might think."

"Oh come on Xander, you can't tell me that if you could have gone back you still would have done it all over again." He noticed that her voice still changed when she was upset. "I played nurse-maid just as much as Willow after what Caleb did, I saw the damage that he did. And I also know what you were saying in your sleep."

"What?"

"Why do you think we moved you into a room with just Giles and Faith in there? The things you were saying in your sleep… about our chances, about wishing you'd never seen a vampire… you were scaring the crap out of the potentials." At the time Willow had told him he was there to keep an eye on Faith. He should've seen through it immediately. Maybe he hadn't wanted to. "They looked up to you. You were just a normal guy, but they thought you could hold your own, and to see you shaken so badly was a far worse blow to their morale than any of the potentials dying."

"You think that it's okay to abandon the good fight just because it's not going the way you want it to? Do you think that _I_ think that?" Xander was trying his best to clamp down on his anger. "Courage isn't the absence of fear, it is acting in spite of fear. More and more you seem to be forgetting something. Plain ol' humans are people too, buff. We have just as much right and responsibilities as you in the war. You may be a slayer and you may have once been _the_ slayer, but you still had a choice. So do we. And you just expect us to sit at home because we might get hurt. So, what? You know what I would've done if I had known I would lose my eye saving Kennedy? If I had known that going down to try and save Jesse would set me on this path? I would have done everything in exactly the same goddamned way. 'Cause that's what being a hero is all about. It's not powers, destiny, or riding into the sunset with a good ending. It's about choice. It's about giving your all when no one asks you to and losing some of the things you care about and even losing a bit of yourself. Just so some little bastard who's never even seen real trouble _never has to_. And why give up so much? 'Cause it's the right thing to do. And frankly it sucks to have someone who used to be your closest ally tells you that you'd be better off if you had never even bothered. Especially when that someone who is only alive because of a support system turns around and tells all the young women she's supposed to be training to do things right that they should leave their families and cut themselves off from their own support systems. Yeah, that's a real smart move buff. That's almost as good as when you left six people without powers to hold three exits against the turok-han that got past you and came at us like literal bats out of hell."

"Is that what this is about? All those years ago at the-" Buffy began but was cut off.

"I'm done talking." He could've screamed at her about how he'd still loved Anya. But if he made that concession to his rage he might just lose it completely. And that would be a profoundly bad idea.

2

Enver Forseti, dressed in a doctor's whites, loitered through the hallways of a small hospital pretending to examine a chart he'd stolen from an elderly patient. Xander Harris had proven to be a worthy toy just a few years ago, but now he'd manifested as a Garou and was doubly dangerous.

The monstrous vampire had defeated Garou before, but that wasn't what he had planned for his old toy. To kill a Garou was one thing, any fool with a high-powered sniper rifle and silver bullets could do that. Enver intended to capture the mighty creature, so he might continue his art. When Xander had escaped him as a human he had been an incomplete, flawed work. But recaptured as and finished as werewolf… He would be Forseti's crown jewel, a perfect masterpiece of misery!

In order to accomplish this, however, the beast had to captured alive and relatively undamaged. That would complicate matters. For this he'd need magicks a bit beyond normal thaumaturgy, preferably from a mage who would bear the Harris brat ill will. Enver had found just such a mage in this very hospital. The vampire ducked into one of the rooms in the step-down unit.

An elderly man looked up hopefully as Forseti stepped in but quickly looked away in disappointment when he saw who it was. The vampire walked past him to the curtained off section at the back. An exceedingly bland and forgettable man lay in a fitful sleep on the cot. Checking his chart to make sure that waking him wouldn't damage his usefulness, Enver produced a small capsule of smelling salts. He broke it underneath the man's nose.

The magus jerked awake, sitting up in bed and casting a wary eye around the room. The vampire was grinning, his canines advertising exactly what he was.

3

Xander left his own hotel room in a huff. Not that the actual act of leaving the room bothered him: he'd left many before and would leave many more and he somewhat preferred to sleep outside in wolf-form anyway. It was just a bit riskier with his people so pissed off at him. But still decidedly less risky than trying to force the slayer to leave his own room if she decided to stay and fight out the point.

Whether or not he could defeat buffy in combat now wasn't necessarily what scared him. After all, as a human he had gone against many entities much more powerful than himself fully expecting to die. He had simply decided that to let Buffy find out he was a werewolf was to never get any peace for the rest of his life. Better to slip away and make his night in the woods until she left.

And heading out he had intended to do just that. As always fate intervened: a young couple of twenty-somethings were letting themselves into one of the rooms on the ground floor while still managing to have a make out session in public. The boy very likely thought that this was his lucky night, a blonde blue-eyed bombshell itching for a night of sex and sweat with _him_. From the meager beard he was trying to grow he couldn't have been too many years out of high school.

The senses that Xander had inherited from his tribe told him that the girl was infested with a bane, a fomori. He couldn't tell what kind of enhancements she might have but he did know at least one thing for certain: If he didn't do something this wouldn't be the kid's lucky night, it would be his last. Instead of ducking around back and slipping away as he had intended Xander found himself heading for the closing door the two had just entered. Managing to catch it just a split-second before it closed, the werewolf let himself in without a noise.

They'd chosen the honeymoon suite, or possibly the trashy-sex-room considering the large heart shaped bed that dominated the place. The couple was entwined on the bed. The boy was on top but the girl was obviously the one taking charge, trying to shrug the kid's clothes off in an almost convincing display of desperation. Along her flanks it looked like small spines were trying to push their way out of the skin under her shirt. The boy had his eyes closed, oblivious to the spines and the foreplay with which he might well have saved himself.

Xander drew a concealed pistol and growled, "So this is what you've been doing behind my back?" to announce his presence. The girl looked sharply at him, the boy noticing the large, armed man only after she broke away from him. He began to blubber. Xander ignored him. "Been wondering what it is you spend my money on every time I'm out of town." The girl's eyebrow arched as the boy continued to flounder.

"Hey, man I didn't know she was taken, I just met her, really, she was really fast and ohmygodcouldyoustoppointingthatatme?" The kid still hadn't taken his eyes off the gun, and Xander silenced him by reaching forward and pistol-whipping him in the temple. The kid laid out cold. 'Sorry, son. Better for you.' He thought. The werewolf put his gun away.

The fomori was smirking at him. She sat on her knees on the bed and sat in the way that would make her half revealed breasts most attractive. "He _was_ kind of lame. If you're so gung-ho about it maybe you and I could-" Fighting back revulsion Xander cut her off.

"Maybe you could meet your maker." The altercation wasn't much to speak of. By now it took hardly any effort at all to change to the war-form (Sometimes it seemed the effort was in not reverting to the hulking monster), and she was a seductress, not a warrior. The one problem about the thing occurred just after he tossed her mangled corpse from his jaws.

Before the foul taste of her left his taste buds he found booted feet kicking into his spine with strength no human could match. As he turned to face the new threat more and more blows began to rain down on him. It took him only a second to face his attacker, and then he found himself on the defensive. Buffy had followed him, and what did this look like to her?

Fighting the Slayer was somewhat like fighting with King Albrecht. Granted, she wasn't quite the whirlwind powerhouse of rage that Albrecht was. In her defense she was a bit faster and just as confident. He found himself reeling under her assault because of his own uncertainty. He realized that if he fought back tooth and nail he might well kill her, and a dark part of his nature urged him to do just that. He also realized that she was holding back to keep from hurting him. Xander decided to pay her the same courtesy. This all went through the back of his mind. The rest of him was consumed with the killing rage and the resisting of that rage.

Things passed that way for a while in the cramped confines of the motel room. Eventually the werewolf managed to get a talon wrapped around her waist, and the Slayer found herself thrown through the window and out the room. His head knocking the ceiling fan out of its fixtures on his way out, Xander fled into the woods. The Slayer followed.

But the forests were wolf country, and the Slayer didn't stand a chance of running him down. As soon as she lost sight of him Xander was able to make a very short false trail and back track to find a place to wait for her to give up. If Buffy had looked up on her defeated trek back through the woods to the hotel, she might well have seen that werewolves actually can climb trees.

Woe betide the cat who gets treed by Xander Harris…

4

The magus and the vampire got off on the wrong start. No one enjoyed being woken up after just being crippled. Forseti's haughty demeanor wasn't helping. Despite this, the two eventually got down to business. The went back and forth a bit on what the vampire required, pooling ideas into how they might use the monster's thaumaturgy and the Magus's more versatile magicks to bring about the desired effect.

When the vampire left hours before sunrise the two had a plan. It was nearly impossible to capture a Garou without damaging it, which was his plan for Xander.

Now capturing five _damaged_ Garou, well that was a different story.

5

Faith woke to the sound of someone trying to get buzzed up.

Giles was out apartment hunting. They still had no idea where Xander had run off to. And Faith was still singed and tired as all hell. But she got up and slouched to the door. "Yeah?"

"Faith? It's Buffy, we need to talk." Faith wasn't in the mood for this crap. And she thought about just going back to sleep. So why did she let her up? Temporary insanity.

The moment that Faith opened the door she could see the surprise on Buffy's face. "Faith, what the hell happened to you?"

"A mage who like to hurl lightning bolts. And bullets," She stepped back and opened the door a little farther "are you coming in or what?" She was.

Faith and Buffy sat across from each other in the living room. Buffy, the Alpha slayer, and Faith, self-imposed outcast. The blonde slayer took a look around the apartment, an appraising look that said what her mouth wouldn't. She'd been living off the Council's substantial dollar for years now. "Nice place."

"Not really, B." Faith didn't get her money from the Council. She had a day job. "Cozy, but not a nice place."

"Faith, we could make with the usual swipes but we got a bigger things to worry about right now: Xander's in town, I saw him last night and he…" And just when she was going to tell her about the big crisis she got cut off.

"Really? Good for you, B. But that's not really news."

Buffy stared a hole in Faith. "You knew he was here? All these years and he was right here?"

"Back up buff. He wasn't here when I got here, he been on the road the whole time. And now offense sister, but I don't think that he wants to see you." A thick silence fell.

"Is that what this is to you? Are you all happy now thinking one of the 'in-crowd' chose you? That's not what this is about damn it. Xander needs help. God, you of all people should be understanding of when someone needs an intervention."

"Intervention? What the hell are you talking abou-"

"He's a werewolf, Faith!" As Buffy yelled out Faith realized they had both come to their feet. There was a pause. And tension was heavy in the air. And Faith, being the antagonist that she is had to say the worst possible thing to the other slayer.

"I know." The blonde slayer stared at faith in shock.

"He killed a girl last night." And Faith had no come back. "He changed at the wrong time and some teenage girl became a snack." Buffy decided she'd had enough. But when she turned to leave Faith's hand was on her arm.

"Buffy, wait. You need to know that-" Buffy cut her off with a right cross. Faith retaliated and the two slayers fought. On most days they were equals, but exhaustion and her injuries took their toll on the dark slayer. More and more blows slipped by her guard. Eventually the inevitable happened and Faith ended up out cold on the floor.

6

Hours later Faith woke up on the floor. Her head was killing her. She picked her self up, patched herself up, and realized how damn late it was. Still exhausted, shot, electrocuted and now pummeled into unconsciousness, she wanted nothing more than to sleep in until three o'clock the next day and then track the blonde slayer down and return the favor. But something Buffy had said nagged at her. So instead she pressed an ice pack into her face and waited at her banged up kitchen table.

Scant hours later one of her windows slid open. A boot and denim clad leg eased their way in the room followed by Xander himself. He looked just as haggard and beat up as she felt. His gaze fell on her and he winced his way over. "What nasty thing got to you Xan?"

Xander got an ice pack for himself. Before he sat down again he lifted his shirt to expose several livid claw marks on his torso. "My old pack mostly. But then I ran into an old friend. I think she might end up being more trouble."

Faith let out a long sigh. "Let me guess. Buffy."

"How'd you know?"

"She came here, too. Guess who she was asking after."

"I'm sorry."

"Why, you're not the one who beat the crap out of me while I was down. But she had a few things to say."

Xander expression darkened, his tone took on an icy edge. "She did, did she." Faith wondered about that. But there was something she needed to know.

"Xander, she said you killed a girl last night."

"Yes and no. I killed something last night. It was a twenty something woman playing host to an evil spirit. Willingly, I might add."

"And how long did it take you to find out about her? How exactly could you tell? Cause apparently she was human enough to fool B."

Xander reflected a moment. By now he could tell her all about the Wyrm. But not tonight. And the condensed version would be: "Faith, when there's a vampire around… you can just… tell. Right?" Faith made a positive noise. "It's your job. You're a vampire slayer, you can naturally tell when they're around. Well creatures like that girl last night, those are what my people are tasked to destroy."

Faith eyed him for a long time. She chewed over everything she knew. The slayer decided to trust the werewolf. "We're going to have to find a way to deal with her, she's not gonna let this slide. And she now has pretty much the entire slayer's council at her beck and call."

"I know, Faith. I have a plan or two forming up here." Xander tapped his temple for emphasis. "We'll deal."

"But not tonight." And with that Faith left at the table and made way to her bedroom. Easing herself into her bed Faith finally relaxed. The worn out slayer stretched and curled up to wait for sleep. She tuned out the sound of Xander shuffling around the apartment.

Her door opened and she lifted her head to see Xander edge his way in. "I don't have anywhere else to spend the night." He offered by way of explanation. She lifted her head to tell him he damn well wasn't going to crawl between the sheets with _her_ when she saw what he meant to do.

Xander dropped to all fours, and suddenly there was a white wolf there. It sniffed around for a bit, pawed at the floor, and curled up at the foot of her bed. Faith let him stay.

When she finally woke the next morning he was already gone.

7

There were a dozen Slayers in town, and all of them were on the hunt for the werewolf, Xander Harris. Two of the dozen were from the first generation of new slayers to be called. He'd personally protected Vi and Rhonda back when they needed protecting. The others had heard stories about the man from the hellmouth. Rupert Giles and even Buffy Summers had told enough of the girls about him, and girls, super powered or not, are prone to gossip. By all accounts Xander Harris had been a good friend always ready with a lop-sided grin and a witty quip.

Now they'd all been called out by Buffy to track him down. The orders were to capture not kill. To that end every one of them had been given tranquilizers. Not one of them had any idea what they were getting into. Those two that had known would be thrown off by sentiment. The younger slayers themselves wouldn't be too hard to handle. Not one of them had been called for more than a few years. The oldest had just reached her eighteenth, the youngest was only fifteen. And that was the one who saw him first.

Xander didn't know about all of the Slayers after him. So far he'd only found nine. He'd seen Vi and Rhonda, and had picked out the youngest and least experienced of them to discover him.

She was a tiny slip of a thing. The petite Latina was only four eleven and probably only weighed seventy pounds. Xander wondered idly how long she'd been at this. From the way she shivered in her oversized jacket as she half-heartedly searched alley after alley while never even knowing he was there. Stalking her through the alleyways he had to remind himself that she wasn't prey. He wondered if she'd last long enough to get used to the job.

Finally he lowered himself to the alleyway ground behind her. Slowly, so slowly he never made a sound. When she turned around her eyes went wide. Her green eyes met his single yellow eye, all nine feet, eight hundred pounds of the war form loomed over her. He snarled. In a flash her tranquilizer was against his neck. Perhaps she'd last longer than he'd thought. But this wasn't her day.

She was faster than him. Every slayer was. She just didn't know it. It was her lack of confidence that allowed him to gain the upper hand. While slower than a slayer, the Garou had the advantage of natural weaponry and spirit magic… and of course greater strength. Xander's talon forced her arm away. She struggled, but she was nowhere near strong enough. The werewolf plucked the gun from her hand and crushed it to scrap. In desperation she let loose on the big wolf, but she was no Buffy and he could shrug off the majority of her strikes. Just the same he howled and leapt away. As he vaulted out of the alley he could hear the slayer reporting the sighting. He fled and noticed more and more of the slayers were following.

It was time for the chase. And then the big finish.

8

For the next hour the slayers came close to catching the wolf many times, but whenever one of them got right on his heels he'd find a second wind. They finally did corner him at a construction site. Xander literally ran through the weakest point in the ring they tried to form around him. Running on all fours the werewolf leapt into a pit that would some day be made into a basement. The slayers lined the pit, and down below Xander played the part of the stupid, vicious beast. He didn't think he'd have to wait long now.

He was right; Buffy arrived with the rest of the slayers. She moved the rest of the slayer's into position. "Stay up here. I'll take him down." Grabbing a tranquilizer gun, the slayer leapt into the pit. Buffy stood opposite her former friend. The beast seemed to know her, and what was going on. It looked gazes with her and stalked up to the center of the pit. As it moved it's breath came out in ragged growls. When it was perhaps thirty feet from her it stopped. Stretching to its full height the huge werewolf roared out its rage into the night, his claws raised to the full moon. The beast balled it massive talons into fists and smashed the ground with all its might. Even the slayers as far away as up on the ledge felt the tremors in the ground and had to back up to keep from falling in when loose dirt and rock slid away. The blonde slayer was unfazed. "Xander, if you're in there…" She raised her tranquilizer. "…This is for your own good." But the werewolf shrank, hair, talons and fangs pulled back into its body. Leaving Xander standing in the pit with Buffy, fully clothed and wearing his eye patch. "Xander?"

"And how would you know what's best for me?" He drew and fired. The gun in Buffy's hand was sheared in half. One of the slayer's above drew a bead on him but found her own weapon torn from her hand. Xander turned and passed his weapon over each in turn. The statement was very clear. "Keep them in line, Buff. Or I will."

Buffy was in shock. "Xander… How can this be? The full moon is out."

"Did you really think that I was the same dumb animal as Oz? Did you think I was just maybe a little bigger?" He dropped the magazine and racked the slide to eject the chambered round. "Well guess again. I'm a different breed."

"So what now? You get bitten and now you decide it's time to go evil?"

Xander tossed away the pistol and smirked. "Nah. Just pissed. Believe it or not I'm the good guy. That girl? Bane. A demon. And what do you think I do to demons? Cuddle?" There was a lot of venom in his voice. "I tear them apart."

"And, what? You're pissed at me for some god's unknown reason, and now we throw down? Slayer versus Werewolf. That's stupid."

"You know you're right. That is stupid. Your speed and finesse against my strength and my natural weaponry would be a contest worth seeing. But then again this isn't about a Slayer and a Wolf. This is a human thing. It's about showing you and all the slayers here that, though they don't have our strength, the humans… this is their world and they can make a difference."

"This is about the slayer families… and… Wait. You're going to fight me just like that?" In response Xander let out a breath and cracked his knuckles. "You can't be serious. How do you really think this'll end."

"You know Buffy, I may not have been as up and up on the book learning like you and Wills always were. But I was always smarter. Just look around you. This is a construction site. I was a construction worker. How much of a coincidence do you think it is that we ended up here?" Buffy took on a fighter's stance as she realized what was happening.

"A little smarter. And I guess you forgot how good I am with plans." He drew a remote from his jacket. At the press of a button a small bomb flashed at Buffy's feet. She leapt away in surprise; the bomb was too small to do any real damage. Xander tossed away his coat, revealing his small armament of knives, his empty holster and other small devices.

Buffy closed the distance quickly. She leapt into the air and Xander rolled away just a second ahead of her knee. He rose and drew a knife and slashed at the slayer's face. Buffy blocked easily and hit Xander three times in the chest before flinging him away. Xander recovered and threw sand in the Slayer's face as she charged him. He took advantage of her momentary blindness to get in a few licks of his own. But once more she rose and pummeled him, her fist and feet crashing into his chest and her feet kicked his legs out from under him. On his knees before her lashed out anyway catching her off guard. She shrugged it off and gave him a right cross for his trouble.

Kicked while he was down he skidded across the pit's ground. Buffy walked nonchalantly towards him. "Is this going as well as you expected? Or are you ready to throw in the towel? Xander we can… I can still help you."

"No…" Xander propped himself up "It's going better…" He reached into the gravel and pulled out a bola. He twirled it around above his head.

"You really think I can't dodge that?" But she hadn't seen his hand still on his remote. Wire burst from the sand walls, shooting out and wrapping it around her legs. Straining, Buffy was already starting to break free. But Xander let loose the bola and snared her arms. But that still wouldn't hold her. Xander moved quickly and dragged the slayer to a new position. Soon he had yet another wire springing around her. And another. And another. And Buffy still struggled. "I'm going to break free Xander. We're not done ye-" Xander had recovered his pistol and discharged three rounds in a tight group four inches to the left of her skull.

Silence fell. Xander could hardly believe it. Buffy was speechless. And the slayers had seen it all. He could have killed that easily.

Xander had won. He had fought her as a normal man. No powers. And he had won. Regaining his composure Xander holstered the pistol and addressed the slayers. "You've seen, all of you, what happened here. Remember the friends and family that you left behind! The true strength of Slayer is not in her arm. It is the reasons you fight. Go back. You need not abandon your family and friends; they may join you in the fight. They may not. And there are many of you now, it's not like all of you have to take on the calling. You have a choice!" And he turned his gaze down to Buffy. He changed again, but this time there was none of the fearsome displays or grandiose threats. With a single razor sharp claw he severed much of the wire. Stepping back he returned to his human form. "And you: you're done here. New York, New Jersey, and Vermont: this is my territory. Some of you have lived here all your lives. And you are welcome to stay. But know this: under no circumstances will you or any other slayer ever bring harm to me, my friends and allies, or interfere in the business of my people. I am not the only one, in fact, there are a whole lot more of us than there are you. And we've been at it a long time. But, you Buffy, you let Anya die, you will never come back. Ever."

The blonde slayer got to her feet. Ready to fight still but knowing that, this time, she had lost. "You were my friend Xander. No matter what passed between us, I loved you."

Xander wondered how much he could trust that. He made his decision. If she ever wanted to come back… The Garou had a way. "Buffy, if you ever have a problem with my decision, than come back. Come back… And I'll be waiting. And we'll see who wins out then." The slayer left, and the others slipped away. But one remained. The Latina. She came gingerly down into the pit with him.

"What do you want kid?"

She looked him over. He won, but we was still black and blue all over and sticky with blood in some places. "I just… I just wanted to…"

"What?"

"I haven't seen my mom in six months." Xander blinked. "I wanted to say 'thank you.'" The girl had lost her jacket in the chase; she shivered, and folded her arms across her chest. She was fifteen, so Xander tried to ignore how inviting her breasts look. Damn Slayers, why did they all have to be hot young girls?

Xander sat down heavily, even if he were low enough to try and make time with the vulnerable fifteen year old, right now he was too beat up to perform. Instead he tossed her his jacket. "What's your name?"

"Janet."

"When you get home, appreciate your mother. I guess I never met mine. Never really knew it mattered until lately."

She smiled. She was waiting for something. "So uhh… Aren't you supposed to go riding into the sunset or something?"

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"So… When were you going to do that?"

"I uh… I'm not sure I can stand…" She smirked at him.

"Need a carry home?"

"Yeah."

"You're bleeding a lot…"

"I seem to do that a lot don't I?"

Afterword: This one has been a long time in coming. This chapter has been the most titanic case of writer's block crossed with real life I've ever had. Add to the fact that I have such a hard time writing buffy anyway. I even got most of the way through when I decided to scrap it and start over. Remember in the very first chapter when I said I thought Xander would have a more extreme reaction over Anya's death. This is it.


	16. Happy Thoughts

Title: Claws & Chaos

Author: Heathen92

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Save my laptop. And Car.

A/N: To all the people who kept telling me to continue those few months ago. Thanks. With the way things have been going in real life I was considering putting this story up for adoption. Also the people who pointed out my Physics goof get a nod in this chapter.

1

Giles had very recently had several different pieces of training equipment moved into a two story loft in Manhattan. While no longer affiliated with the Slayer's Council he still received a generous pension, and any slayer in the area could come to Giles for training or guidance. At Xander's request he'd also had his shower upgraded to put out extremes of temperature.

Sitting cross legged on the shower floor, the 20-below freezing water streamed down every inch of Xander's skin. Skin that had lost all color hours ago. He wasn't quite naked: he at least had on a pair of swim trunks. There was nothing keeping him there.

Giles stood just outside the shower in warm clothes, a quarterstaff in hand. Every few minutes he smacked Xander with it. Often in the face.

The Englishmen thought this particular exercise was ineffective at best, right stupid at worst. But if Xander thought it was a good idea, well, getting hit in the face might help him learn his lesson on proper toughening techniques.

Not that it ever had before.

2

Toughening had nothing to do with it. If seven years on the hellmouth didn't make you tough, tough just wasn't going to happen. This was a mental exercise for Xander.

Growing up in Southern California had made Xander detest being cold, and no one likes getting pummeled. A situation designed to annoy and provoke the inner beast. Xander knew he'd need to learn to control his anger under any circumstances. That kind of handle on his emotions was a good idea for anyone who did what he did for a living. Even if not worth going to these lengths to get it. Most people who lose their cool in a fight might get themselves killed, maybe someone else along with them.

But when Xander loses his cool he doesn't get anyone killed, he does the killing. One of the disadvantages to being a werewolf.

So he was stuck with trying to find his center while being beaten with an overgrown stick by an aging brit because if not he might lose it and end up with innocent blood on his claws. He tried to call an image into his mind that would banish the rage. He tried with every swing of the staff, with every…

Whack!

…whack.

3

He remembered coming home to Faith and Giles after his confrontation with Buffy. Word of what happened preceded him. They seemed to alternate between taking care of all his injuries and stern words form Giles or Faith hitting him so it hurt only immensely but did no damage. He didn't mind. Neither one had said anything along the lines of: "how could you do that to Buffy?" But instead: "how could you fight a Slayer without using every advantage?"

And dozing on the couch that night he caught a salty scent from Faith's room. She was all asleep in there, and he realized she didn't put on a tough exterior in her sleep, probably couldn't. Faith, someone he still regarded as so strong, and coming from her room the scent of tea-

Whack!

That thought wouldn't do.

4

The wounds would heal without a mark, but after so many tough fights in so little time Xander would need a few days of rest. Faith still had a job to hold down, so after a few days that left only Giles to keep him company. The watcher was _very_ interested in the Garou, and had hundreds of questions. Hundreds. To make matters worse Giles had insisted on a kettle of steaming hot tea.

Faith wasn't going to let him have a decent brew after his little display in Willy's a little over year ago. She got her way with a stubborn insistence that probably had more to do with her being a woman than her being a slayer. She never said she didn't want him to drink, much less that she wouldn't let him. Faith just gave him these _looks_. Or casually mentioning in a perfectly sweet (strange from her) voice that when you had a _problem_ you might end with a tremendous problem where your abs should be. Faith had apparently honed her skill in manipulation to a razor's edge. If she had a resolve face he was finished.

And to add insult to injury, in addition to being able to get a decent drink, he found himself having tea. To think he thought it was bad when the woman had been forcing water on him at every opportunity.

At the very least Xander had been able to steer the conversation away from the Garou after the first hour. Not only did he avoid giving up any Gaian secrets, he also enjoyed a normal conversation with his old friend. Apparently Willow was still with Kennedy. Dawn had decided not to fight the things that go bump in the night (he was glad) and was now attending Hartford University (which he knew). Spike had survived Sunnydale, a catastrophe in L.A., and gone to hammer the snot out of Andrew for some bizarre reason that surprisingly enough involved a woman. Good for Spike. Xander had never liked either of the little murderers, but Spike hadn't let Anya die.

Xander had stories of his own from the intervening six years. Saving two small caliber crooks in a Mexican village crawling with zombies. Escaping torture at the hands of a vampiric "artist." Fighting alongside a gang of xenophobic prostitutes and slightly imbalanced man named Dwight McCarthy in the infamous Sin City. A strange coyote-creature that frustrated and confounded him to no end.

Whack!

That didn't quite do the trick.

5

Weeks later when Xander recovered he started to spend time training with Faith. Which is to say (especially with him remaining in human form) that Giles instructed him on different techniques and forms and then the petite slayer threw him around the room for awhile. At one point he had followed through on his thrust to much and she had spun him, slapping his butt with the flat of her practice sword. Her grin told him that she was enjoying this too much.

Whack!

That particular thought had made him _more_ annoyed.

6

He and Faith had been in the sauna after a particularly embarrassing bout of training. Xander wondered idly just how generous Giles's pension was. He should've seen it coming really, she never seemed to tire out and would keep up her workout for at least an hour after he stopped. If she was in the sauna, she wanted something. "So why don't you want to tell anyone where you live?" He was over at one or the other's place more often than not. And when he wasn't he was out hunting. But no one knew where he slept. They had convinced him to get a cell phone, with him grumbling all along about leashes.

"Because no one needs to know."

Smack!

Never be short with a Slayer after her workout. Her bloods up, if she got a genuine workout she might be sore, it's just a bad idea.

Whack!

Xander tried to find his center. These thoughts weren't working.

7

Giles praised his thinking on his feet when he caught Faith in mid-air and knew he'd need the war-form's talons to catch her and find purchuse in the side of the building. "And to fall faster and get even with her." Xander had supplied.

"Xander, added weight doesn't make an object fall any faster…" Maybe Xander should have paid more attention in physics.

Whack!

8

Years ago Xander had tried to make a road trip to all fifty states. Yes, he knew Hawaii was an island. That's why god invented boats and some captains are willing to take on a passenger's car as cargo. He gotten as far as Oxnard and ended up a male stripper for the duration.

In the years after Sunnydale's destruction he'd more than made up for it. He'd seen all of the country, and quite a bit outside of it too. One week about seven months before his first change he'd found himself near Hartford. And then he'd seen Dawn.

She hadn't seen him so he took a moment to decide whether he wanted to talk to anyone from Sunnydale. Xander decided not to simply because talking to Dawn might well bring the rest down on his head. He ducked into an alley. From where his position he could see her but she couldn't see him. After a moment she was joined by a handsome young man about her age. As they took off in his direction they might have seen him had they not been making moon eyes at each other. The soon-to-be werewolf was glad that she had that luxury.

"Hey man, did you see those two?" said a talking stereotype who'd come up the other end of the alley and peeked out at Dawn. "The man looks like he might have a little something-something on him." Apparently he hadn't seen Xander either.

Stereotype No.1 was talking to a slightly scruffier talking stereotype. "Yeah, and look at the girl! I think I might need to get my hands on such a hot little piece of-" Apparently he _really_ hadn't seen Xander.

A minute later the couple passed the alley and saw two low-lives sprawled on the ground. Her boyfriend had thought to see what happened until Dawn pointed out a switchblade by Stereotype No.2's hand. They decided to leave the whole situation alone. From where they couldn't see, Xander smiled.

Whack!

Didn't quite work…

9

His jaws closed on the Creeper.

Whack!

He got drunk with a green skinned, horned, empath-demon in Florida. After mangling country tunes. After dismissing a reading about fangs and claws in his future.

Whack!

He ran down a deer with his pack.

Whack!

He was in bed with a very grateful to be alive Brazilian model.

Whack!

He shot a vampire with a hollow-point round stuffed with plant for the first time.

Whack!

He blew up an evil toy factory with some other city Garou.

Whack!

He took a deep, calm breath. Whack! He tried to imagine a better world. A world without demons.

Whack!

He was a carpenter by trade. Not very impressive, but good honest work that gave him a good feeling. He was a foreman now, but he still got in and worked with his hands when he could.

Whack!

He still lived in the town he'd grown up in. Xander had a close-knit group of friends from high school. And they were all gathering together in town today.

Whack!

Anya, teased as the uberbusinesswoman.

Whack!

The famous actress Cordelia Chase. Oz, a brilliant man with a degree in astrophysics who was better known for being lead guitarist for the Dingoes Ate My Baby.

Whack!

Bob, the NFL's first openly gay quarterback. Jenny Calender, the teacher who made damn sure that any student who had it in them to pass (which meant to her all of them.) would pass.

Whack!

Wesley the historian and his wife, a girl from Texas named Fred. His oldest friend Jesse. Willow. Faith. Giles. Dawn. Buffy. Her Mom.

Whack!

Whack!

A world without demons. A world where mankind had a chance to develop having never known the heel of the supernatural.

Whack!

Whack!

Whack!

A world where he still _was _a man. It was the night before the big reunion with all his friends. He rolled over in bed and draped his arm over his wife. She snuggled into his embrace as he ran a hand over her huge belly. The baby kicked. Xander smiled a contented smile.

This time he caught the staff.

"I think I've got it." He got up to turn-off the water.

10

He'd warmed up afterwards. He'd spent almost nine hours in that shower. What he needed now was to go home and sleep into next week. Outside his studio apartment he caught the scent. That scent in his territory made him angry, but it was all right. Now he could get angry and not worry about tearing anyone apart. He didn't hesitate coming in, and certainly wasn't surprised to find Faith lounging in his chair. "Hello, Faith."

"So this is your place, Xan? I like to have a little floor space but don't you think you took it a bit far?" She gestured at the rest of the apartment. The chair she sat in was the only one. There was a low table nearby, along with a small bookshelf in the corner. A large footlocker filled with weapons and gear was the only other thing in the room. "Now, I got a little curious when you didn't want to tell us where you sleep. But I really wasn't expecting this. I was thinking you were homeless before this place. Hell Xan, your room is just a bed and a clock. I think you have more clothes at my place than you do in your closet."

"I'm tired, Faith. If you found this place you can probably get out on your own." Xander headed for his bedroom, conversation over.

Faith did not agree. "Why?" when she asked she also stood in his way.

"Because I spent all day in a twenty below shower while Giles hit me with a stick?"

"That's not what I meant." Folding her arms beneath her breasts, Faith was going to get out his way in a hurry.

Xander walked around her. "I sleep here. This all I need."

The slayer stepped in front of the bedroom door. "That's a load of crap. There's no way a man can actually live like this. Not for very long."

Standing toe-to-toe with her, what Xander said was scary for the utter sincerity with which he said it.

"I'm not a man. Not anymore."

When he stepped past her she didn't get in his way.

"_My god. Is that what he thinks?"_ Faith thought leaving his apartment.

11

As Faith slept, Falcon came to her in her dreams.

This time she was on a park bench. The abnormally large falcon perched on the back of a gilded throne severely out of place in the mundane surroundings. "He thinks he's a monster. That's just great. And about a year ago I would agree with him."

Falcon could have been a statue for all he reacted. "The young prince has always fought with monsters. Even before he knew the truth of the world he was terrorized by monsters of a different sort." Falcon paused momentarily "When the Vampire with a Soul made his home in Xander's the prince hated him more than any other. Why?"

"Xander was jealous of Angel and Buffy."

"No. Such animosity was not born of envy. Gaian instincts are with those who will change from birth. Compounded by being forced to slay the vampire in his childhood friend's body he would have hated the Vampire with a Soul even had it not expressed interest in the slayer. Such hatred, especially when restrained, spilled over. All that is supernatural became the object of hatred. Had his change not come so late such the emotion would not be so strong in him."

"Instead he continued into adulthood, making war on nearly every supernatural force he encountered, never knowing his own nature. In changing he discovered it. But unlike most cubs who are invigorated with the change, he was horrified by it. He views it as something that was done to him. And tries, as he always has, to make the best of his situation."

"That would explain why he took on Buffy without changing."

When Faith woke up the next morning and started planning.

12

That night, in the very same city, five Garou were chained and magically bound to the ground in a circle around a basin set in the floor. One Garou for each Auspice. Each a facet of Garou Society. Crevices were carved in the floor at their feet to funnel liquid to the central basin. Powerful magicks kept them rooted to the spot and unable to even change from the Crinos war form to slip the chains. The ghastly chamber they were in only had two other occupants. One was a Magus in a wheel chair. He'd nearly finished chanting whatever spell he attempted. The other was a Frenchman with an unsettling, avid smile. A vampire by smell, his only standing there would have been reason enough for any of the werewolves to attack on sight.

Even if they didn't know that he was the one running the show.

At some signal from the magus, the vampire walked to the first Garou in the sequence, the trickster. The werewolf still could not move and was helpless as the fiend tore into his throat, draining blood before finally tearing out the jugular and dropping him to the floor. His blood ran down the grooves in the floor towards the basin. He repeated this with all the others in turn. The basin filled. And boiled. As the Magus's chanting reached it's climax the Frenchman plunged his fist into the blood basin. The light flickered in the room as the spell took effect.

Magus's magic worked by bending the rules of reality. And reality had had enough of him. The backlash of his magic washed over him in waves. He wailed pitifully as every part of his body swelled quickly, grotesquely from the retaliation. The vampire paid him no mind. He'd served his purpose.

As the unnatural darkness faded from the room and the blood calmed and began to coagulate the vampire withdrew his hand. On his ring finger rested a small platinum band.

Magus still moaned and writhed on the ground, horribly disfigured and hopelessly crippled. The vampire left him for dead.

In fact as he was leaving Enver Forseti laughed long and hard.

A/N: Ah… it feels good to post again. One thing I never quite understood about the later seasons was how tolerant Xander was of demons, even Clem or Spike. From the first episode Xander well and truly _hates_ demons. They forced him to kill his friend, they killed off other friends, I sometimes wonder if the reason Xander hated Angel was because he was a vamp. The only real exception to this in my story is the slayers (of course) and Lorne. Who is, quite frankly, more human than most of the characters in the buffyverse. Hence Xander will drink with him.

I'm trying to portray Faith as a more mature woman at this point. Still Faith, but much more experienced and less dysfunctional. Which, from the way she was in the final episodes, was where they were taking her anyway.

I don't get to go to college and never took physics in high school. It sounded cool.

And finally, who can guess what Forseti's ring does? I made Xander immensely powerful, so…


	17. Rm 1408

Title: Claws & Chaos: Rm.1408

Author: Heathen92

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Thanks to everyone who reviews. You keep me going. Especially the comment by mfkngst. You really do that?

I need to find time to update this faster.

1

The werewolf with silver fur cut a bloody swath through it's enemies.

The wolf never ceased it's constant motion: claws raked at corrupted flesh while the silver sword in it's right fist whirled and sliced through bone and sinew. Cut off from the pack, the wolf dodged and leapt, lashing out and staying just a single step ahead of the foul servants of the Wyrm.

One Black Spiral Dancer came down directly in it's path. The Dancer itself was of little consequence, having landed on uneven footing to strike at the wolf had made it into fodder for the sword. The momentary pause to strike him down allowed the others to encircle their quarry. Undaunted, the wolf whirled and slashed with it's weapon, weathering the damage from wyrmspawn while dealing out it's own. It fought against inevitability, but it fought well.

Howls broke through the din of battle. Not Black Spiral howls. A change came over the Black Spirals: They howled back, yet several could not keep the nervous chitter out of their voice. The werewolf roared and redoubled it's efforts, in moments the pack broke through, and it was no longer fighting alone. The foul wolves fell like wheat to the scythe. But the pack wasn't here for them.

Their real target showed up as the last Spiral fell. A massive bane, numerous writhing tentacles around a gaping maw, itself encircled by nine smaller mouths, all with razor-sharp teeth. The beast supported itself with four massive legs that would have been reminiscent of a spider if not for being grotesquely muscled. It was covered in patches of skin shaded for every ethnicity. Human skin.

Snarling, the silver furred wolf leapt forward. The sword was deflected by one of the deceptively fast tentacles, but one talon found purchase in a leg, leaving deep crimson trails.

Howling the anthem of war, the pack leapt forward joining the fray. Circling and swiping with claws and bringing their own weapons to bear.

Xander…

One particularly large werewolf brought a rune engraved maul down on a leg, causing the creature to shriek in pain. A counter strike from several tentacles knocked the werewolf away as the rest of the pack…

Xander!

2

"Xander!"

Xander's eyes snapped open. Pupils dilating _Why?_ Squinting his eyes sought the answer. Sunlight poured in from drapes suddenly pulled aside. _Oh._ _Then who was yelling?_

"Xander I don't mind you crashing here, but no shedding on the couch."

_Shedding?_ "What do you mean?" Was what he meant to say. What came out was a soft "Woof?" Xander looked down at his paws. _Paws?_ He shifted to human form, brushing a few silver strands from the couch. He sat up and rubbed sleep from his eyes. He looked at his windows. "The sun says noon. But I don't feel like I've slept even an hour." He was lean and firm in all the right places, the hunt doing wonders for his body if not for his disposition. Clad in only a pair of loose athletic shorts, it was easy to tell.

Faith sat nonchalantly next to him. It wasn't that she didn't notice or wasn't affected by his physique. Or that she didn't appreciate the view. She had simply seen it enough over the past few weeks to get used to it. And he'd seen her in underwear recently as well. A trifle unfair as he had a harder time ignoring it. But it was still as comfortable as it was going to get considering their history. "You know, have you ever seen a puppy pump it's legs when it's dreaming of rabbits? Your legs were pumping pretty fast…"

Xander looked at her incredulously for a moment. "_Puppy? That's what I get for sleeping at the foot of her bed just once…"_ But seeing the mischievous smile on her face, he chuckled, then he actually laughed. It was over too short however, and he replied seriously. "A nightmare actually."

"A nightmare? Think it means something?"

"Perhaps the first was a vision, but it hasn't changed since. I think every other night I've just been going over it until I get the significance." At her questions he told her how many nights he'd had the dream (every night for a week) and relayed the contents of the dream itself. "One thing I do recognize is the sword. It looks a lot like the one I recovered escaping pentex…"

"Well then, that's our first lead but we have other things t-" Xander made a face and shook his head. "what?"

"Not an option. That is not just a sword, it's a Grand-Klaive: a powerful magical weapon, more importantly, its an artifact of extreme spiritual significance."

"So?"

"I turned it over to the tribe and while I might have been allowed to look at it having found it, I'm an exile. If I come within five miles of it my own pack will try to kill me. Again. Still, the sword at least let's me know I'm looking for someone renowned."

"At least there's that." The next topic Faith wanted to bring up was sensitive at the very least. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, ate cheerios and host of other morning rituals she didn't really need to do. Not that she was avoiding the subject. Nevermind his greater strength, spirit gifts, fangs and talons; Faith was the bully in this relationship. She was just chewing over how broach the subject.

Over on the couch Xander's head was in his hands as he struggled to fully awaken. Was it because of the dreams, or sleeping in? Or something more? A few weeks before he'd told her he was a monster. That struck her speechless. Of the group he grew up with Faith had always considered him the most 'human' even after she knew he was a werewolf. Sure he'd changed a lot, if you pressed him in just the right way in just the wrong place he'd give you the cold shoulder or maybe even head off to throw a violent temper tantrum somewhere. But there were some days when she could see the old Xander. A hint of lop-sided grin, a soft chuckle, or even the rare moments when either one touched his eyes.

In the months since he came to her Xander had done everything with grim determination and fatalistic certainty. Qualities that had made him a loner for years. That simply wasn't him. She hated it. The slayer would have found a way to shake him out of his mood even had the Falcon never asked. Faith was more the Search-and-Destroy type and had little experience trying to save anyone on a personal level.

But she had a plan now. She knew exactly how to save her favorite "monster."

She also knew he wouldn't like it. This would require a little subtlety on her part. But first a little bluntness.

Xander looked up and roused a little when she sat down next to him. Still not quite awake, but that would work in her favor. "Xander, what you told me in your apartment…" And there were those hard eyes again. Being who and what he was, a strong tact would go better. "You're not a monster."

"Really? You think so?" and there was that fatalistic certainty. "You really don't have any idea. You can't." He got up to leave again, clothes or no clothes. Faith caught up halfway to the door, grabbing him in a bear hug and starting to physically carry him back to the couch. He resisted, of course.

"Bullshit Xan! Slayer's get there power from demons! And in the council they hold me up as the bad one!" There wasn't a chance Xander cloud break free without changing, but Faith was a petite woman, so he had no problem lifting her up and carrying her along with him. A good sized and unfriendly looking man in nothing but shorts carrying out a good tenant like Faith. What would the neighbors say?

"Hah! That's right. But it's a demon in you, not just you. When I lose control, when I have to fight the urge to sink my teeth in someone who pisses me off in the street, when _children huddle in fear_ of me in my _human form_ it's because. Of. Me." Almost at the door Faith threw them both to the floor. Still clinging to his back she started to drag them both across the floor.

"Yeah? When you saved my life the first time was that because you're a werewolf? What about when you stopped Willow from blowing up the world? Can you lay that all at the wolf's paws? What about when you literally snatched me out of the air and healed my gun shot wound?" When trying to squirm out of her grip didn't work Xander changed tactics. And forms. Faith found herself grappling with a full size white wolf. He got free for about a second before Faith latched on again. This time his rebuttal was a mere bark, growl, and woof. He changed back to human form and was startled to find that he wound up on bottom with Faith sitting on him and holding him in another bear hug with arms against his chest. "Now you can listen to what I have to say… Or you can just stay there and we'll see who gets bored first." A tricky predicament for Xander. Because, with Faith holding him this tightly, his arms weren't the only things pressed into his chest.

Then the phone rang. And rang. And rang again. Faith didn't move. "Faith?"

"Yes, Xander?"

"Think you better get that?" Faith put on a determined face.

"I'll get it. But if you leave before we're finished I **will** drag you back. I just hope you put some clothes on first." So she got up to answered the phone. Xander was still going to leave, but this time he would remember to get dressed first. At least before Faith noticed just how much that little wrestling match had affected him.

Faith returned as he was slipping on his shoes and said exactly the right words. "You feel up for a haunting?" Halfway finished with tying his shoes, Xander grinned a wolfish grin in anticipation of a kill.

3

That night found them in the Hotel Manager's office, the particular hotel went by the name of the Hotel Dolphin. A small but elegant hotel on the corner of New York's sixty-first and fifth avenue. The office itself was finer still. Complete with soft yellow lighting, Persian carpet on the floor, and two large and comfortable armchairs facing the manager's desk (Xander stood).

The hotel manager's name was Olin. Mr. Olin had first adamantly refused to let Giles investigate room 1408, then he wouldn't let him rent it. Finally Giles had hired a lawyer to make the case that refusing to rent anyone the exact room they wanted, so long as it was vacant, was a violation of certain civil rights laws. The little man had fought them to the bitter end and now he'd asked them into his office to try one last time to convince them not to go into the room.

For nearly fifteen minutes Xander had stood and listened to this man, little in spirit as well as body, while Giles and Faith tried to persuade him that they knew what they were doing. That they'd done it before. And most importantly that they were going to do it no matter what he said. The hotel manager persisted.

"I'm afraid you simply do not understand Mr. Giles. Perhaps you are legitimate exorcists. Maybe not. But what you fail to understand is that that room is not haunted. It never was. There is a presence there, yes, but _it is not a ghost_. And it will do worse than kill you if you attempt." It was at this point that Xander really did lose his patience.

Olin had not heard a single word out of Xander's mouth the whole night. When Olin greeted them in the lobby Faith had introduced her friend, and Olin had received only a nod and a handshake.

Olin really was a small man. He was a little shorter than Faith, and Xander himself towered over the hotel manager. He had judged Xander as the muscle immediately from his rough exterior and silence and from then on had ignored the taller man in lieu of Giles or Faith. But mostly Giles. Having stood silent sentinel the whole time did little to dispel Olin's original opinion of Xander. The man had almost forgotten him completely.

So it came as a great surprise when the werewolf suddenly came forward to lean across the desk and get in the man's face. Xander hadn't even moved quickly, the fear on Olin's face said he didn't need to. Regrettably, many people were terrified by the mere presence of a Garou. "Mr. Olin, let me tell you what you do not understand. We are not playing games here. You're not going to convince us to leave. We have a job to do. And we're going to do it." Xander had once made a habit of plucking out his fake eye as a means of intimidation. He'd recently used it to scare a were-raven into helping him. He briefly considered doing it now. Olin wasn't worth it. "From the way you've carefully ignored me tonight I bet you think I'm just the muscle." Olin winced. Xander was right. "I'm actually not the muscle. I'm the specialist. I'm here to find out exactly what your 'presence' is and tear out it's heart." Xander withdrew from the frightened man's face to stand with his arms draped across the backs of his friend's chairs. "And another thing: you sir, are a _coward_. I had a chance to read up on this place during the trip here. Twelve suicides. Thirty 'natural' deaths. Maids getting cancer, Alzheimer's and even one woman being struck blind. And you have done _nothing!_ You have never once sought a way to be rid of it. Not once." Xander paused for breath. Stunned, Olin didn't take the chance to cut in. "Give me the key, Olin. Give me the key and get out of my way. Or else when I'm done with 1408 I might have something else to take care of tonight."

Olin's spluttering was the only delay. Xander got his key, but he had to find the room for himself.

4

"Do you go around trying to intimidate everyone you meet, Xander?" If Faith wanted to stand in for Xander's conscience, she was making a fine start. "Seriously, I think he was just about ready to piss his pants."

Xander stopped and sighed in a mock penitent voice. "I'm sorry, Faith. I can smell better than you and… He really did." Xander chuckled softly for a moment before adding: "Coward."

Walking along beside them Giles wagged an admonitionary finger in the Garou's face. "Xander! Though I agree that Olin's fright and laxity with the room is contemptible, that doesn't make it right to intimidate him into incontinence. When all is said and done such behavior does the most harm to you more than him."

The trio arrived at the door to room 1408. "And you know what you're right." Xander admitted "But I saw a lot of people like Olin on the road. And I just can't leave that kind of thing alone. Both of should be glad I did that instead of what I _really_ wanted to do."

Faith folded her arms beneath her breasts. "And what's that?" Truth to tell she had thought the whole thing a little funny. Not that she would let Xander know. But from the way the man had said 'really…'

"What I really wanted to do was tear out his throat." At the scandalized looks from his companions Xander pointed a thumb at himself and added a flippant "Monster." Turning his attentions to the door, Xander pressed a palm on the oak door and came close to search for any kind of scent from the room, reaching out with spiritual as well as physical senses. He didn't like what he found. "This place reeks of the Wyrm. Something physical in there would make sense, but if we really are dealing with a spirit… We need to be on our guard."

"Wanna break it down a little better Xan?" He was being a little too vague for Faith.

"Physical manifestations of the Wyrm are easier to detect than spirits that are probably beyond the veil. So, there's either a Black Spiral Dancer behind that door, or a very powerful Bane."

"So we're actually hoping for a Spiral? Creepy." In response Xander shifted a wide belt around where it hung above his waist. When he was finished a short sword and massive magnum with the trigger guard shaved off hung at his right hip.

5

The trio crept silently into the room. Xander wore a scowl on his face from the overpowering stench that only he could smell. Almost immediately they were buffeted with fierce winds. "I guess we're not going to find that Spir-" Faith began to say. She was cut off as the wind swept both Giles and her off their feet and swept them out the door, which slammed shut behind them.

The moaning of a score of anguished men and women made Xander grit his teeth as he struggled alone against the wind. He realized that the voices were real people at one time, the former occupants of this room. The werewolf could pick out the voice of a sewing machine salesman who leapt out the room's window in 1910. And Randolph Hyde, a man who slit his wrists and, for good measure, cut off his own genitals in the bathtub in 1962. And several dozen screams, whimpers, and wails he couldn't identify simply because he hadn't had time to read up on every single person who died in here while he and his friends drove here.

Pressing the heel of his hands into his ears to shut out the voices as much as he could, Xander lurched around the room in search of anything that he might find useful or give him an idea of where to start. A large mirror on the far wall shattered when he came close to it. The spirit swept the shards up in a cyclone that surrounded the werewolf, forcing Xander to keep his arms guarding his face and throat. A voice like nails on a chalk board screeched "Garou!" over and over. The other voices fell silent, not so much drowned out as frightened away. Xander was grateful for the heavy jacket he was wearing, the glass tornado cut and slashed at him if he moved. Something he did constantly as the gales battered him one way or the other. The spirit had the advantage.

But it had also tipped its hand.

Xander added up everything he'd seen so far. He'd been separated by a spirit who obviously knew Garou. And one of the things it had done was destroy the mirror: the only reflective surface in the room. And a reflection was a great aid in crossing over into the Umbra. Xander knew what to do.

A particularly large shard of glass caught his eye. Wincing in anticipation, Xander stuck his hand into the storm of glass and snatched at the piece. He grunted as the shard stabbed through his hand. It was still intact and the werewolf brought it to his face and stared into the reflective surface.

He faded from the world.

6

Significance was more important than location in the Umbra. The surrounding rooms most likely had no representation in the spirit world. Room 1408 (a twenty by thirty foot space in the physical world) was the size of an indoor arena on this side of reality. Pillars dotted the landscape, the whole area ringed by a wrought iron fence of wicked spears. Xander had been near the north wall, and now found himself six feet from the northern edge of fencing.

The singular feature of the room was without a doubt the huge creature at its center. A bane, numerous writhing tentacles around a gaping maw, itself encircled by nine smaller mouths, all with razor-sharp teeth. The beast supported itself with four massive legs that would have been reminiscent of a spider if not for being grotesquely muscled. It was covered in patches of skin shaded for every ethnicity. Human skin. Skin Xander now knew came from all those dead by its actions. A piece of their soul. A scar from Garou claws on one the supporting legs caught his eye.

Xander wrenched the glass shard from his hand, concentrated and rolled his wrist as the wound closed. "I know you. I have a score to settle."

The bane advanced deliberately, spewing a litany of curses in its nails-on-chalkboard voice. Xander ignored them, they were mostly villain speak of how innately inferior he was and how humiliating his inevitiable demise would be. Standard. What he did do was shift to Crinos. And rip two spikes from the fence. He hefted one as a spear and hurled the other as a javelin. The thrown spear was easily deflected by one of the tentacles. The spear he held onto fared better as he used it to bat away questing tentacles. And close with the beast.

He whirled, slashed with claws, and thrust with the spear. Xander worked his way to the main body of the creature. The werewolf planted his feet and stabbed upward with the spear, piercing its flesh and lifting it from two of its legs. And that was the single biggest mistake he made that day. With his spear embedded in the bane both talons straining to keep the creature off balance, he spared no thought to the rest of the wyrm-beast.

One of the tentacles wrapped around one of his legs and pulled him off his feet. In the time it took him to sever the limb before the bane could drag him anywhere… unfortunate two more encircle his arms. They were surprisingly strong for their size, able to keep him from getting free long enough for others to seize his legs and lift him aloft. They began to move him towards the large mouth in the center.

Writhing in mid-air, the tentacle lost their prize. Instead of a massive werewolf, a sure-footed and swift wolf landed on it's feet. Bone spurs on the end of tentacles struck the ground a around him. Always one step behind the bounding wolf. Xander raced in and around the forest of legs and tentacles. Frustrating the creature to no end. When the opening came the jaws of the wolf flashed out and one of the legs buckled and collapsed, hamstrung. Xander repeated this twice more, not bothering with the fourth leg, which could do no more than jostle the creatures weight around.

Now was the right time for the war-form. Rising as the nine-foot killing machine, Xander drew both the sword (which became a knife in his massive fist) and the hand cannon (the ungainly monster of a magnum that fit a Crinos claw like a 9mm) and leapt on the banes back.

He fended off the tentacles of one side of the body with the butt of the pistol and sparing rounds. With the sword that was really a knife Xander hacked and chopped at the base of the tentacles. The creature screamed in pain as it was torn apart by one single Garou. When all it's tentacle were gone or hanging by a thread, and the creature that had been a cruel, torturous master to so many human souls whimpered like a beaten dog, Xander gave his terms. More than it deserved for something he needed.

"Give me the name of the Garou who scarred your leg, and I will let you die easily. Refuse, and you will find there are worse things than being torn apart and crippled. Far worse…"

The creature had no true courage. "Natasha!" it grated "Natasha Galltinov!" Xander struck. And a hundred souls wailed, sighed in relief, and fell silent. Their ether wafting away in wisps of air, after as long as a century bound, and finally free.

7

Giles and Faith broke through the door and burst into the room. They found Xander on his squatting on his knees. He was covered in small cuts and bruises (some already begun to heal) and steam rose from his clothing.

Giles spoke first, exclaiming "Good lord!" and getting cut off as Faith ran to her friend "Are you all right?"

Xander smiled. "I'm hungry as a hostage. And I think at least Olin owes us dinner.

It was an amusing scene as Xander (who decided not to clean up) told Olin that he could rent out room 1408 again. And that he expected dinner. Most of the patrons stared at the disheveled man and his companions, seated at one the best tables on the floor and treated to the finest sweetmeats the Hotel Dolphin had to offer.

8

They drove back to Faith's and after dropping them off Giles left for his own bed. After fifteen minutes of small talk and banter, Xander himself headed to the door. When he put his hand on the knob he felt Faith's hand on the collar of his jacket. "Xander, remember when I said we were gonna talk later? I will drag you back in the apartment, you know."

He turned to face her. "I don't think there's anything to talk about."

"Then listen. If you want to think about yourself like that, I can't stop you. But I want you to promise me something. I got some vacation time coming up. And when I go I want you to come with me. I want you to see someone who might change your mind." He flashed her a doubtful look. "Promise me?" In retaliation she used her best cajoling voice.

Xander sighed, unhappy about this topic yet again. And the fact he'd just taken down a massive wyrm beast by himself and Faith defeats him with a tone of voice. "Fine. I promise I'll go. But don't expect anything."

Faith smiled. "And I promise that I'll try not to say I told you so."

A/N: Now you have to wonder who she'd bring him to.

The inspiration for this chapter came from Stephan King's short story "1408" which I found to be an intriguing take on a haunted hotel. Rather than the plodding, creeping doom of the original, I needed to go for a battle. So some changes.

Also an elaboration on the curse for those unfamiliar with Werewolf: the Apocalypse. Garou are savage predators by nature. And most people can sense this subconsciously. So someone might do anything from cross the street to get away from them to even cowering. It tends to make social interaction difficult.


	18. The Void

Title: Claws & Chaos: The Void

Author: Heathen92

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Note: If you ever work for the government, you will lose most of your time.

1

An early Saturday found Xander and Faith at a firing range. The range was for upscale residents who wished to forget the grind of daily life and imagine themselves as warriors for a day. Xander had chosen the place for excellent facilities and the fact that most of the usual clientele would still be sleeping in, granting a measure of privacy.

Xander had little use, now, for the guns he'd used in his self-imposed exile. He was Garou after all, and there was a racial tendency to spurn firearms. The smell of cordite had grown especially bitter since he changed. The tactician in him saw the use of long ranged weapons, however, and he had never been very good with a bow. But Faith had no such reservations and even made quips about the first gun-toting slayer with a wry grin. Xander had suggested a little extra training. When the day began Faith squeezed off a flurry of rounds one-handed, leaving a mass of bullet holes covering the paper target. She dropped the magazine and turned with a self satisfied smile. "See? I don't need any training. Just look at that thing!" She even twirled his .45 on her finger cockily. Xander pressed the button to retrieve the target. Running a critical eye over the target, he held it up for Faith to see: "Fifteen bullets. Thirteen hits." Faith's smirk didn't falter.

Fingering some of the errant holes in the picture, Xander continued: "Thirteen hits, and only three of them fatal." Faith's confidence didn't falter.

"Yeah, but those three mean the guy's dead. Kind of makes the other shots not mean much."

"You have a lot of talent, but one clip for one target isn't a fair trade. Would you spend a whole quiver of crossbow bolts on a single vamp? Or do you plan on wearing enough clips for each enemy, so you rattle when you take a step? You need to learn to make every shot fatal, and do it quickly." Xander laid out a fresh magazine and began to fiddle with the target controls "You will probably master it faster than I did. You are a Slayer after all, and one of the oldest in history. But with bullets you're an amateur with a little talent. Next time hold the gun in both hands and fire in time with your breathing, and make every shot kill: speed can come later."

Faith sniffed derisively. "Yes, dad." Xander finished with the controls. Fresh targets came up and she quirked an eyebrow as the silhouettes began to move from side-to-side and criss-cross at a decent pace. "What, you think I need more of a challenge?"

"No Faith, just think of this as a lecture, call me 'Professor.' When we train with swords and stuff like that you embarrass me. Every. Single. Time. With guns you _are_ and amateur." And with that Xander was in motion. His hand shot up and suddenly she noticed the .45 in his hand, the clip slid home even as he leveled it. His face betrayed no expression at all, a serene calm in his eyes. He started down the length of the room at a half-trot, firing as he went. The left side of the man's body was almost limp, his blind side forgotten as his right eye and hand moved as one, his firing hand a blur even the slayer had difficulty keeping track of. Each time he fired a hole appeared in a target, until his clip ran dry and he shut the targets down. When he was finished each of the five targets had three holes in them. One in the forehead, one in the eye, and one in the heart. It had all happened in less than thirty seconds. Less than that.

Abruptly Faith realized she was gaping and shut her mouth with a click. He had just done it all so _fast_. "How can you do that?" One possibility popped into her head. "Is that a wolf thing?"

Xander chuckled slightly. "No. It's not. Some Glass Walker city wolves can do that, but I'll never get a chance to learn. Besides I could do that long before I ever changed." Ejected his magazine and placed it on the table, grabbing a fresh one before sauntering over to Faith. "I met a man in Nevada. A former SEAL, won a Medal of Honor. He claimed once that he shot a sniper in a window through the eye from across rooftops With a _pistol_. The guy is so good I believe him. He taught me something," He handed over the gun started to (lightly) move Faith's body into a firing stance. Xander had impressed her enough that she let him. Her feet he spread into a wider base with her left foot forward and the leg on the same side as her dominant hand almost directly under her. Both of her hands were placed on the handle this time, the left hand holding the right. She stood straight, and her hands were moved up to bring the weapons sights level with her eye. "This time don't fire on reflex: aim." He spoke softly now. "Remember that when you fire your hand will come up and then around in a figure eight, everyone does it: humans, garou, probably demons… pull back slightly with this hand and push forward with this one slightly. That will steady you a lot."

"What is it that guy taught you? This can't be it."

"No, this is just a stance to get you used to aiming like you do with a crossbow and not firing without aiming. We have to walk before we run, Faith. And control is the key in shooting." He stepped close. She could feel his breath on her neck. "Emotion will get in the way more than you might think. Do this:" Xander whispered in her ear. "make a picture in you mind. Form the image of a single flame in an empty space. Focus on the flame. Now I want you to feed all your emotions into it. Everything. All hate, all joy, all that you're feeling now I want you to put in that flame." He paused for a minute and Faith tried doing as he said. "When all your emotion has been fed to the flame I want you to picture the space as a void. Nothing can reach you in the void." She couldn't reach the state Xander had been in but she calmed significantly, much of the background noise of her thoughts quieted. "Now fire!" he bellowed, trying to rattle her as the target came up.

Faith fired. This time aiming every shot she did not fire as fast but every round hit the target, but twelve of her fifteen shots struck in areas that would kill a man or a demon. "Cool trick, Xan. But I don't know if I got the space."

"The void. And you'll know when you get it for real. It took me a month of trying to get it the first time. And even then I couldn't hold it long. You did much better than I did." "Shoulda seen that coming." Faith said as she holstered the weapon and leaned on one of the gun counters partitioning the firing range, arm folded beneath her breasts. "I didn't think a normal human could move like that, are you sure that doesn't have _something_ to do with being a werewolf?" she gestured at Xander's target lying on another counter.

"The void," the garou began "is a state of mind. Even when I was normal things changed for me when I got the void. Everything seemed to move a tad slower, and I couldn't see or hear better, but everything seemed… sharper. More vivid. I always wondered what would happen if someone with already heightened senses was in the void. And it works a lot better frankly. Hell, even in human form I could smell you like I can as a wolf."

"Now isn't that a disturbing thought." Faith pulled a face in mock disgust. "I swear Xan, if you try to smell my butt…" Xander blinked and spluttered. "Wha-What?"

Faith chuckled at the look on his face. "Just kidding. Though seriously? That would be a little too kinky for me…" Xander didn't know what to say to that. So instead of saying anything he just laughed.

2

An hour found them in Giles's kitchen (being much closer to the range than Faith's), and Xander scrambling eggs. He held that Faith could not cook to save her life. Also he held that he cooked tasty treats so often would be very, very fat if he didn't get a workout hunting down the denizens of the city.

Faith had just gotten out of the shower, and sitting at the dining room table in a terrycloth robe she stroked her hair much more diligently than she used to. The faint scent of lavender shampoo drifted into his nose, taking precedence over the smells of breakfast. He'd noticed many changes in Faith from the girl he knew. Her paying more attention to her appearance was one of the smaller changes. The woman before him had matured more than him, she certainly took better care of her self and others. Skills that had atrophied in Xander. He hadn't had much reason for it since he left. He wondered idly who she had had to take care of in order to build up that skill, Xander got it when he was still taking care of 'his girls.'

"So what have you figured out about Gallatinov and her pack?" he snapped out his reverie with Faith's question. And not a moment too soon: from the smell the eggs were done.

"She headed one of the first multi-tribal packs in the nineteen seventies, a Silver Fang like I used to be, she was very progressive for her time. A powerful fighter and skilled leader. She had to be, because one of her packmates was part of a Tribe called the Get of Fenris. The Fenrir are the most arrogant and intolerant of us, and the one she had," Xander took a moment to put food on three plates. If he was going to use Giles's food, he should at least make some for the watcher. He grimaced. The bacon had gone cold. "was a very well known Get who fought in world war two. She and her pack disappeared in the late seventies, and no one I've talked to so far knows how." Xander served Faith and sat down to eat himself. Faith added some fruit, Xander, added a few chunks of raw beef.

"Silver Fangs are supposed to be the royalty in the Garou, right?" Faith asked around a mouthful of eggs "Don't those types usually keep a record of their heroes?"

"They do, and don't share with outsiders. And I can't claim to be Silver Fang anymore. Makes asking difficult. One thing I _do_ know is that the sword I recovered from Pentex was hers a long time ago." When he finished talking, Xander popped a chunk of beef in his mouth. Relishing the taste of raw blood, even if it was tinged with the taste of livestock. It wasn't venison, but it would do in the city.

She didn't know he could do that. Faith hid the twist of her mouth behind a glass of OJ. "Here's what I don't get. I know you can't go back and get the sword 'cause you're in exile. I get that. But why did you let them take it in the first place?"

"As I said before, it is a Grand Klaive. Normal Klaives, like a dagger for us, are rare and powerful. Grand Klaives are priceless relics, and if they weren't too useful not to use they'd all be locked away for safety. Now, when I first came to my people, I wasn't even considered a cub. There is no way they would let me keep a Grand Klaive. Even if I'd stayed on I wouldn't have gotten the thing unless I could prove it was my birthright."

"Heard it. And I suppose that you filching the thing from the enemy wouldn't earn you any points?"

"Not a one." It didn't take heightened senses to know Faith had more on her tongue. Xander decided to beat her to the punch. "Think that's the dumbest thing in the world don't you?"

"You're damn right! What kind of aristocratic zoo are they running over there? Birthright? What kind of crap is that?"

"Actually it was more a merit thing. King Albrecht was a progressive kind of guy. And I think that if I'd stayed on I would have gotten it eventually… After all, I sometimes overheard people referring to me as 'the Prince…'" Xander popped another raw chunk of meat in his mouth "…which isn't actually a real rank…"

"Hmm… I'll have to work a little harder making sure that you don't get head swollen…"

She was interrupted by a somewhat groggy british accent. "And I need to find a way to keep you from debating the merits of an aristocracy against a meritocracy at the top of you lungs while _I'm trying to sleep!_" The venerated former watcher padded into his kitchen clad in a robe and wearing the 'happy wolf' slippers he used to taunt Xander when he was bored. "And Xander, for the love of god: if you're going to just eat it raw do it where I can't see you."

"Sleeping in, Giles whatever happened to 'bloody children sleep away most of the day?'"

"Faith, I'm fifty-five. This _is_ waking up early."

A/N: The void is from Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time saga.

My chapters come few and far between. Which, I kinda wanna change. This chapter was to break out of writer's block.


	19. My Swami

Title: Claws & Chaos: My Swami

Author: Heathen92

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: I believe this may be the fastest update I've done in almost two years. Yay me. Actually we can lay the blame purely at Louie Pastiche's feet. He challenged me.

1

Faith was driving, and Xander was resentful. "_Not that that sort of thing matters to me. No. Not at all…_" In truth it really didn't _bother_ him. Hell, they'd been trading off the whole time here. The real reason was the fact that when he drove past the county limits of L.A…. Hel-freakin' A… Faith had him pull over and _insisted_ that she drive the rest of the way. He at least convinced her not to blindfold him. Even if he saw where they were going he wouldn't recognize anything here. Besides, the slayer probably just wanted to blindfold him just for sake of blindfolding him. He missed the days when he teased and baited everyone instead of everyone doing it to him!

God, but did he hate this city. Life was cheap, many of the women cheaper and clad in expensive clothes, and the smell. The smog in the city had bothered him a lot when he was just a man. As a Garou, the wolf senses made it hard not to turn right around. If he had a mission in L.A. , no problem. A wyrm pit or a Black Spiral hive made Los Angeles smell like an untouched grove. A _vacation_ however, just wouldn't cut it.

"_Ah. But I'm here aren't I?_ _ Be honest with yourself, at least._" So why was he here? Because of the beautiful woman in the driver's seat. When he saw her with his new senses for the first time he'd been struck dumb by how beautiful she was to him. That hadn't happened to him since high school. Also, she had always been brave. Not to mention how greatly she'd matured since his school years and even since she came to aid Buffy against the First. He wasn't about to start a relationship with her, but he could appreciate her anyway.

Unfortunately, the woman had also manage establish a firm grip on his testicles. That was impressive. She was the first woman to really, truly, have him by the balls and she hadn't even used sex appeal to do it. No. At this point Faith would do as he wished or acquiesce if he felt strongly about something or the woman thought he was right. Otherwise she got him to do what she wanted, usually before he even knew he had changed his mind.

Faith wanted to go on a vacation. Xander was of the opinion that he hadn't had a real job in six years and what passed for one (slaughtering the creatures of the wyrm where found them) was all the stress relief he could want. But Faith wanted a vacation _with him_. Xander hated L.A. and wanted to never set foot there again. Faith wanted to go to L.A.. Xander wasn't even fully sure when he'd changed his mind. Maybe when she told him there was someone he "just had to meet" in a sweet conversational voice that somehow implied he would go or be completely shaven in all his forms.

Damn Faith for manipulating and cajoling him so well. And damn his balls for getting him in this mess.

So Xander sat in the passenger seat of Faith's small Honda Accord. He smelled the tainted air and simmered. He sat back resigned to his fate. Faith was talking. Don't listen…! Don't listen…!

Faith had a roguish grin that meant trouble for her companion. "…it's not so much that I really like shopping or really want to…" Shit. Didn't work. He was listening. "… I'm just thinking I wanna make you carry." Damn his balls.

"And it's not like we need to worry about a hotel or anything. We're staying with friends. Who you _will_ spend time with. And be _polite_. Or I shop for pet shears." He knew she was joking. She had to be.

Right?

2

The journey ended in the hills. An upscale house, not a mansion by any means, but still a nice house. And in this area with the housing situation in California it probably cost more than Xander would pay for a small third world country. "_Who lives here that I just HAVE to meet?_" They waited on the porch for about a minute before they heard a woman's voice inside. He'd meet them in 'just a second' apparently. However he hated the city, Xander was curious now.

Born and raised on the Hellmouth, Xander was more difficult to surprise than a seasoned veteran. Possibly because he had one swimming in his head somewhere. Mostly the Hellmouth, though. Despite that, the people who answered shocked him. The Hellmouth prepared him for demons, vampires, monster and anything Hell or the Wyrm could spit up.

But not a petite blonde woman and her five year old son.

"Auntie Faith!" the boy exclaimed and rushed forward at the speed at which only five-year olds can move. Laughing he launched him self at the slayer.

"Will! C'mere squirt!" Faith caught the child in mid-air and hugged him firmly to her chest. "My god you're big! Nina what are you feeding him?"

"Why human growth hormone. What else is there for a kid?" the blonde had a wide grin. She was very attractive, and carried herself with the ease and confidence of someone who hadn't lived an easy life, but still a happy one. With her dietary confession she turned to Xander. "So, you must be Xander? Hi." Xander was apparently somewhat dumbfounded but she reached forward and shook his hand without his help. "You're the victim, I mean, _friend_ Faith was bringing over. I'm Nina, and the Flash over there is Will."

The house was spacious without being oversized. The furnishing were tasteful and well crafted. Most of it was made of wood with a distinct lack of the sleek and frankly dispassionate post modern crap every one was putting in their homes these days. The place was relatively uncluttered with the odd toy or book lying about. It was home and not a house. People actually lived here instead coming here sleep and store their stuff.

The decorating scheme reminded him of the estates in the North County Protectorate while the feel of the place reminded him of Joyce Summer's home. His own apartment fell short on both counts.

Faith put will down when they got to the living room table and allowed the child to lead her away by the hand deeper into the house. Before she disappeared down the hall she looked over shoulder at him with a smirk. "Get your jaw off the floor Xan-man, it'll make a stain." And with that she was gone, spirited away by a giggling child.

He had never seen anything like it. But it shouldn't have surprised the wolf, she changed in other ways…

Left alone with Nina, he found himself bustled into a comfortable chair. "Can I get you anything? Coffee or tea? You might as well be comfortable…" No one had handled him like this since Joyce passed away. He found he missed it. There was one thing his nose told him that he couldn't ignore, though.

"Tea would be fine, ma'am."

"Ah don't call me ma'am, you're probably a little older than I am." A few moments had her carrying a pot to the table (She'd refused to let him fetch it himself. Old habits of his.) like it had been brewing before he even got there. Do I want anything in it? Why, no thanks, I take it as bitter as the Englishmen who perfected it. Biscuit? Just tea, thank you. Doggie biscuit? Did Faith put you up to that?

It was eerie.

"So, are you the one Faith wants me to meet?"

"Nah. He won't be home for another hour at least. But you just got in from New York so you might as well take a load off." She raised the cup to her nose and breathed in the aroma.

"Ah. Since we got time, when were you bit? If you don't mind me asking." The way her eyes went wide and she nearly choked on her tea told him he'd been right on the money.

"Wh-What do you mean? Did you see a bite on me?" she even made as if she were looking at her arms to check. She was a bad liar. Which probably made her a better person than Xander. Though she probably was a tad rattled he figured it out so quickly. But something like that couldn't hide from his nose.

"No. You're son is in the other room, and I'm 'in the know.' So you can come right out and say it. If Faith trusts you, I won't do anything to hurt you…" The woman gave him a considering stare, and Xander had the feeling of being weighed and measured. He didn't flinch.

"Six years ago."

"I see. If you've survived this long and live like this you must have coped well…"

After hearing his response Nina recovered quickly, continuing to sip tea calmly. There was steel under the soft and frail surface. Of the sort one needed to cope with lycanthropy and still live a relatively normal life. "That's it? Most people react differently. Are you sure you don't want to make the sign of the cross or at least tremble?"

The woman didn't even _smell_ threatened anymore. "No. And I am sorry if I offend. But I had to know for sure. And you're not a werewolf."

"After what you just said you don't actually believe in werewolves? Does the word inconsistent have any meaning for you?" Most people would not be able to maintain a calm and focused composure in this situation. What with their secret already known to someone they met only minutes ago.

"Oh I believe in werewolves. But you change during the full moon, right? You're not a werewolf. Lycanthrope, as a matter of fact."

Nina's eyebrows came up. Now she was interested. "Those are synonyms. Is there some difference between the two that you want to share with the rest of class?"

"A Lycantrhrope has no control. The moon tells you to change and you change, and then unless you're locked up you kill. But the rest of the month you walk about like a normal person and for the most part you could never even tell. Werewolves are almost completely different. More controlled on the one hand, less controlled on the oth-"

"And that's what you are?" Now it was Xander's turn to be shocked, though he hid it better. The woman lycanthrope across from him sniffing her tea deeply replayed in his mind. The gaian warrior felt a measure more respect for Nina. She was craftier then he had suspected.

"Yes. I'm a true werewolf, though I won't tell you much more than that. Good job on checking my scent by the way. Didn't even notice with you using the tea as a cover."

Nina once again surprised him, this time by laughing. "Nah, I got a good whiff when I shook you're hand in the doorway."

"And you still let me in?"

"You were with Faith. She's saved my husband's life in the past and you saw how Will feels about her. So I figured if she brought you here for a few weeks you wouldn't do anything that bad. Or at least Faith would kick your ass up and down the block."

"Which she might still do. You never know."

3

A little over an hour passed in small talk between Xander and Nina. While Will began to regale Faith with the latest events to befall his burgeoning civilization. Of Legos. Xander was still mystified watching the slayer with the child. Even with everything he'd seen since he came back into her life it was just too weird. But the man didn't have to dwell too much on Faith's own newly revealed motherly tendencies.

Nina was full of questions, but Xander was reluctant to answer and rebuffed her. As politely as he could (for fear of Faith's pet shears) while still unmistakably tell her: "No." between Nina and her husband he wondered how many secrets he would have left by the end of this 'vacation.' Just as she started to ask about his sense of smell Xander heard the front door swing open and shut.

Just before Nina's husband entered the room Xander caught a scent that was at once familiar but also very strange. As if it had changed significantly since he had smelled last. A tall man in his early-thirties stepped into the room. He was already half out of his tailored suit, minus his coat and shoes and still taking off his tie. The child made his way over to his father, and for his part the father gathered the boy up in one arm and carried him aloft as greetings were exchanged.

There was a quick, familiar kiss for his wife. A hug for Faith with his spare arm. And finally he leveled a considering gaze on Xander, who remained seated and silent. His brain unable to reconcile what his senses were telling him.

Xander was justifiably shocked. He was comfortable enough with his garou senses that he could tell reality from illusion reliably but there was no way he could believe them now. The person standing there (in broad daylight!) smelled like a man, had a wife and young son, and showed none of the angst Xander usually expected. No matter what he thought possible: seeing and smelling made this believing.

Xander couldn't call Angel Dead Boy anymore. "Him? We're here so I can meet him?"

Less than pleased with the arrangement himself, grimaced as he looked at his guest. "Well, hi Xander. Nice to see you too." The women had obviously arranged this between themselves without the knowledge or consent of either one of the men. Angel didn't seem to have anymore idea of what was going on than Xander.

Nina drew her husband aside, and Faith grabbed Xander and took him to the front door where he couldn't hear what Angel and his wife were talking about. "So Dead Boy isn't Dead anymore. What am I going to call him now?"

He put his hand on the doorknob. Then he grunted when Faith hit his wrist to break his grip. "Not this time Xander." The slayer shifted and planted herself between him and the door. She didn't look like much of an impediment, her being a woman more than a head shorter and much slimmer than the man in front of her, but a slayer could do just that. Then again, he was Garou. She couldn't keep him in if he decided going through her was worth changing. Faith had to bank on Xander being unwilling to make a scene. Years ago he wouldn't be. But years ago he never would have been in this situation. Today, he was perfectly willing to change, tear through the door, and leave in the loudest way conceivable.

The deciding factor of course was that Faith had Xander by the balls.

Small as she was, Faith's eyes shone with enough menace and threat to send any cub scrambling out of her way. "Every time, Xander. Every time you meet someone you used to know, or something comes along that doesn't fit in with your fucking 'kill the wyrm' world view," Xander took a step back as she began angrily poking his chest "or you have to be brave in a situation doesn't involve tearing something apart, you _run and hide_." At this point there was only an inch between them. The slayer was even standing on her toes and in his face. "And I'm sick of it!"

"But Faith… him? You want me to see _Angel_? Why?"

"Because you told me you think you're a monster, and he can help you. Just like he helped me." Faith now withdrew a bit, knowing he would not bolt if she gave him room to breathe, and folded her arms across her chest. "He _can_ help you, you know. He's a good man. And if you can't see that, especially now that he really is a man, well then…" she pursed her lips pensively. She wondered if this next step would be what finally turns him back from the road of hatred and childish self-loathing she'd traveled herself. Or if it would piss him off enough to send him down that road for good. "… I guess you never did grow up. If you can't stay here long enough to speak with an honest-to-god _hero_… no matter what you think of him… Then you're still a little boy in a man's body."

And what could Xander say to that? No?

4

Faith led Xander back to the living room where Angel was waiting. "I'll do it Faith." Dead Boy(former) had received his own talking to. "But Xander, while you are in my home you will _behave_." Angel began counting off fingers for every law he expected Xander to obey. "You will not change unless you're trying to protect my family, and you will keep a civil tongue in your mouth or you can take a hike. Also Faith dragged you here so I could help you, and I'll do just that. And yes, before it even comes up. I know. I've known since just after you changed."

Xander was again struck dumb. "_This is my vacation?_" was all he could think. Angel took his stunned silence for assent enough. "Okay, so long as we get each other. There's a room you can use down the hall and to the left. Now I have," he turned his gaze to his son. "pressing business to take care of."

With that Angel took his son by the hand and made his way to the child's room. "So, kiddo, what do you want tonight? The Bear books or the myth books?"

"Myth books!" the child supplied

"Atta' boy." As Angel and his son disappeared down the hallway, Nina and Faith made their way to the back porch. Xander was left alone in the Living Room, and could only wonder: "How in the hell did that all happen?"

A/N: Less action this chapter huh? And less action next chapter, I'm afraid. But, let's face it: He's Garou. How long can he go without tearing something apart?


End file.
